


Rising From The Ashes

by LetItRaines



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2019-10-28 08:51:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 141,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17784326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetItRaines/pseuds/LetItRaines
Summary: When her husband died while deployed, Emma Swan wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. Neal left her with a broken heart and a three-month old baby who already resembled his father. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be.And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones, who has been her support system ever since Neal’s death.As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think, give me theories, continue being the awesome people that you are! ❤️
> 
> I can be found on Tumblr at [let-it-raines](https://let-it-raines.tumblr.com). Feel free to stop by and send me a message!

Her hip rests against the doorframe to her daughter’s nursery as she watches her boyfriend pace back and forth over the tufted gray rug singing little Ada to sleep. She’s nearly four months old now, the blue of her eyes fading away to green but still sticking around in certain lights, and her light blonde hair is growing a bit darker and forming in curls. She’s beautiful, like a small little miracle, and she’s somehow an exact mixture of she and Killian. Emma knows that Ada’s features will continue to change, to morph between she and Killian until she’s got features that are completely her own. But right now she simply looks like them.

 

Emma likes that she looks like them.

 

She also likes that she’s not the one putting a fussy Ada back to sleep right now. There are few sights more beautiful than Killian bonding with his little girl and helping her get to sleep after a particularly rough night that even roused Henry from his room, his hands rubbing at his eyes and asking why his sister was being so loud.

 

An eight-year-old and an infant in one house is not exactly a great mix, but they’re all learning.

 

Killian had taken Ada from her arms when her rocking and attempt at feeding her didn’t work in calming Ada, and Emma led Henry back to his room, tucking him under the covers and running her hands through his hair, pushing it back and scratching at his head in the way that she knows soothes him.

 

_“Momma,” he mumbles, his deep brown eyes wide open in his never-ending curiosity, “will you tell me a story about my dad?”_

 

_Her breath hitches, and her heart starts pounding in her chest, the rate so quick that her entire body begins to heat while her hand stops its ministrations in his hair. “Do you…do you mean your dad, baby, or do you mean your daddy?”_

 

_“My dad. Not daddy.”_

 

_That’s what she feared, and she wasn’t prepared enough for this. She hasn’t gotten enough sleep, and it’s only been a few months, a little longer than Ada’s been around, since she told Henry that Killian isn’t actually his father. Sometimes it’s still jarring to talk about._

 

_“Kid, are you sure?”_

 

_“Yeah, I want to hear about him.”_

 

_She sighs. It’s hard to talk about Neal, always is, but Henry deserves to hear about his dad._

 

_“Well, you know your dad was in the marines, and he was very brave. One of the bravest men I’ve ever known, and he spent his entire life trying to make the world a better place.”_

 

_“Like a hero?”_

 

_“Yeah,” she smiles, running her hands through his hair again, and Henry’s eyes start to flutter closed again, “like a hero.”_

 

_“I’m glad he was a hero,” Henry mumbles as sleep starts to take over more quickly than usual._

 

_“Yeah, kid, me too.”_

 

It had been quick and almost painless to get Henry back to sleep, his eight-year-old body much easier to take care of than his sister’s, but the short conversation they’d had has left her all shaken up, her mind running amuck with thoughts of Neal and the intricate spiderweb of emotions that always come with his name or how she sees his face when she looks at Henry and sees all of Neal’s features reflected back at her.

 

She feels warm hands press against her face, shocking her out of her thoughts to see Killian looking down at her, a soft smile on his face.

 

“You ready to go back to bed, sweetheart?”

 

Her eyes look to him before they look over to the crib where Ada is sound asleep. He’s a miracle worker. He has to be. There’s no other way he could have done that. 

 

She nods and lets him lead her back to their room, the warmth of his hand now seeping into her lower back before they both crawl into bed, rummaging around underneath the warmth of their cream comforter until Killian’s on his back and she’s tangling her legs with his and wrapping her arm around his middle while her cheek rests on his chest. His hand moves up and down her back in soothing circles, small indiscernible patterns being drawn by his fingers, and she knows by the worry etched into his features he’s going to talk to her about why her face has been all scrunched up.

 

“You want to talk about whatever happened when you were with Henry?”

 

“How do you know something happened?” She knows the answer, but she asks anyways. 

 

“Because I know you.”

 

She sighs, pressing a kiss against the hair on his chest, right over his heart. “He asked about Neal.”

 

His body tenses underneath hers, and if anyone understands the history she has with Neal, it’s Killian. After all, he was there for all of it. “What did…what did he ask?”  
  


“He just asked to hear a little about him, but it wasn’t much. I told him he was a hero, like we always do.”

 

“Aye, he was…he is, but that’s not what’s bothering you, is it?”

 

She shakes her head, and she faintly feels his lips pressed against the crown of her head while his hand squeezes her hip.

 

“Neal’s dead, babe. He died, and Henry’s never going to know him. Hell, Neal only got to know Henry for four weeks, and I can tell all of the stories in the world about how his dad is a hero but…but we’ll never know what happened to him. He just – he disappeared into thin air, and you can’t explain that to a child. They don’t understand. And yeah, he’s got you and you’re the best daddy in the world to him and to Ada obviously, but I just feel like sometimes I’m doing a disservice to Neal’s memory. I know he wasn’t perfect. We had a hell of a lot of issues but – ”

 

She feels Killian’s thumb on her chin, propping herself up to look at him, and the water in his eyes likely reflects the water in hers. “Emma, you could never dishonor his memory by living your life. I mean, yeah, I’m sure he’d probably be weirded out that we’re together, but he’d want us to be happy. He’d want Henry to be happy, and you’re making him the happiest little boy. And you’re honoring Neal’s memory as best as you can.”

 

“So are you.”

 

Killian chuckles, and she nuzzles herself back into his chest while his hand starts moving against her back again. “We should work together and make a book of memories about Neal for Henry…and for us.”

 

“I’d like that.” She moves up to quickly brush her lips against his. “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too, darling. More than anything.”

 

“More than anything.”

 

She’s making breakfast for Henry the next morning while he’s in the living room finishing his homework – or more likely watching TV knowing him – when she feels strong arms wrap around her middle and prickly stubble brush against her cheek.

 

“Something smells delicious,” Killian breathes against her ear, his breath coming out hot and causing her entire body to shiver.

 

“It’s just from the box,” she smiles, and Killian rubs his nose further against her skin. She’s going to burn these pancakes and burn the house down while she’s at it if he doesn’t stop turning her on when they both have jobs to go to and children filling their house.

 

“I wasn’t talking about the pancakes,” he growls, and screw it. Who needs responsibilities?

 

Who needs pancakes?

 

She turns around and hungrily slants her lips over his, the familiar warm feeling running through her as they devour each other, their tongues already fixing together while her hands run up his chest and his run down her back to squeeze her ass, the firm grasp causing desire to pool in her belly. She’s just pushed him up against the island, their bodies pressed as closely together as they can without them actually having sex, and that’s when Henry runs into the room, the two of them springing apart like they’ve been burned.

 

Shit. The pancakes.

 

She turns off the stove before she adjusts her robe, making sure that her breasts aren’t spilling out. She can scar Henry in a lot of ways, but not in that way.

 

“What were you guys doing?”

 

“Making pancakes,” Killian answers, smiling at Henry before stepping toward her and pulling the hem of her robe down. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing your reading for school, lad?”

 

“I finished, and there’s something you guys need to see on the TV!”

 

“Kid,” she groans, her body still tingling even though she’s had the emotional equivalent of a cold bucket of water dropped on her, before she picks up the plate of pancakes she’d made before Killian came downstairs, “if it’s the commercial for Disney World again, we’re not going until Ada is older.”

 

“First of all, babies go to Disney all the time. And second of all, no. I think you left it on the news, and there’s something about my dad on TV.”

 

“What about your father, lad?”

 

“They’re saying he’s alive.”

 

The plate of pancakes falls to the floor, the glass shattering and breaking into several sharp pieces that scatter all over the kitchen floor while her legs give out beneath her, and the only thing that keeps her from breaking as well are Killian’s arms holding her up.

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm giving you guys the next chapter sooner because 1) well, I finished it and 2) you guys are awesome! 
> 
> And since you're awesome, you're just going to have to trust me. I am a happily ever after kind of girl. And a lot of the drama in this story might not come in the way that you think...once we get into it ♥️
> 
> Double line breaks around a section indicate a flashback!

Sergeant Neal Cassidy, presumed dead since 2011 and officially declared as deceased as of May 2018, has been found alive. The details around his presumed death are still unclear. It’s assumed that he was held as a captive in Iraq near the end of the Iraqi War and never listed on the known registrar of war criminals, so he was not released in the agreement the United States had with Iraq to trade war criminals. After Delta Force raided an al-Qaeda compound last month and found Sergeant Cassidy, he has been in an undisclosed German hospital recovering. In recent days, he has been moved to a hospital in Maine where his wife Emma Swan and son Henry Cassidy reside. He is also welcomed home by former Naval Captain and close friend Killian Jones. We cannot speak for the world, but this is a feel-good story that we’re sure brings joy to even the darkest of hearts. It’s a family reunited from death. What could be more heartwarming than that?

 

* * *

 

“Ms. Swan, Captain Jones,” Dr. Vibuthi greets them, reaching over and shaking their hands before settling down in her chair while he and Emma sit in their seats across from her. The office is oddly bright, colorful paintings adorning the walls with the odd educational diploma mixed in. Every doctor’s office he’s ever been in is sterile, dull, but this is likely because he’s only ever been in an exam room. It’s not like it matters what the office looks like, not in the grand scheme of things, but he needs something to focus on besides the vomit that continuously threatens to leave his body.

 

“Killian?”

 

“Huh?” he asks, turning to Emma who is looking at him with eyes full of concern.

 

“Did you hear the doctor? She asked if you were okay.”

 

Oh. He didn’t hear her at all. He didn’t know anyone had said anything since she greeted them. How much did he zone out? It’s only been a few seconds, hasn’t it?

 

He might not be okay.

 

“I’m fine, love,” he assures Emma before looking at Dr. Vibuthi. “I’m fine. Just a little overwhelmed is all.”

 

“That’s completely understandable with what you all have been through. Miracles like this are wonderful, but they do come with a certain amount of shock.”

 

Miracles. Shock. Surprise. He’s already tired of hearing those words. It’s been two weeks. 

 

“They do,” he grits, his fingers fidgeting across his thigh until Emma reaches over and places her palm over his knuckles, the smallest of touches already making him feel infinitely better. “So, can you tell us how he is? How Neal is?”

 

She looks down at her files while he interlaces Emma’s fingers with his, needing the connection and support, knowing that she needs it too. “So Mr. Cassidy is a rare case. He hasn’t given us a lot to go on, is always insisting that he’s fine, but we’re running as many psych tests as we can just to make sure.”

 

“Yeah, that’s what they told us when we talked to General Neller on Tuesday,” Emma explains, her hand tensing in his. “But he said you could tell us how Neal _actually_  is? Is he hurt? Is he malnourished? Does he have PTSD? What tests have you run on him? I just feel like for two weeks we’ve known he was alive after thinking he was dead for almost a decade, and yet no one will fucking tell us anything other than they’re running tests.”

 

With every single bone in his body aching, wishing to know more, wishing that he could understand what the hell has been happening, he also knows that in all the ways he wants to be weak, Emma needs him to be strong. She’s strong enough herself, likely the strongest person he’s ever met, but she’s gone through hell more times in her life than anyone ever should. Right now is simply another round of walking through the flames and hoping not to be burned to ashes.

 

The first few days after the news was released that Neal had been found alive had been an adrenaline rush of trying to understand what the hell was going on, how it could be going on. He and Emma were convinced that it was a false report, that it wasn’t him, especially since no one had bothered to notify Emma. The first fucking thing they should have done was notify Emma that Neal was alive. It should have never made it to the news, not without her knowledge.

 

Their house had been a mess. When Emma collapsed, the plate she dropped shattered and glass cut into her skin. So with a numb girlfriend, a terrified son, and a wailing daughter shocked by all of the commotion, he’d had to get the glass shards out of her legs and clean her up. Henry had made the decision to call David, which is what they taught him to do in situations like this (not that there had ever been a situation like that before), and David had quickly come over and helped them take care of the kids while Killian called every military contact he could think of to try to find out what was going on.

 

And they’ve basically been in a loop of looking for information ever since.

 

With crying. A hell of a lot of crying, sobbing really. He doesn’t think he even knew that the human body was capable of producing that many tears.

 

This is the closest they’ve gotten to any information, though. They’re in the same building as Neal, even if they have no idea what happened to him, how he’s alive, where he’s been. They know nothing other than that he was found in some undisclosed compound.

 

So the compound. They know about the compound. That’s it.

 

Well, they know that he’s alive.

 

How the fuck is Neal alive? And why is he not outrageously happy about it?

 

His best friend is alive, back from the dead, and it’s been the worst two weeks of his life. How damn selfish is that? He should be elated, feel like his life is back and all of the tragedy of the past eight years is gone, but it’s complicated. Life always is, but your best friend coming back from the dead only to find out that you’ve slept with his wife isn’t exactly ideal.

 

He shudders at the thought because while he and Emma have slept together, it wasn’t just to scratch an itch. They love each other, have for over four years now, and he’s never felt guiltier about it than he does right now. One shouldn’t feel guilty for being in love, and yet all he wants to do is drown himself in a bottle of rum…and in Emma.

 

They never meant to fall for each other. He doesn’t think anyone ever does, but it just happened. They were both grieving, and as the two people closest to Neal, they’d leaned on each other. For years it had been the purest of friendships, two people mourning over something they never could have imagined happening to them, and he’d spent more of his time helping her raise Henry than anything else. But somewhere along the way – between diapers and potty training, breast pumps and cooked meals, late nights and early mornings – he’d developed feelings for her.

 

He’d never despised himself more than the moment he realized his heart fluttered at the smell of her hair or the way her lips felt when she kissed his cheek in greeting. It was wrong. He couldn’t have feelings for Emma. He wouldn’t just be hurting Neal’s memory, but he’d be hurting Emma, too. She was, still is, the strongest woman he’d ever known, but she’d also been through hell. Who was he to complicate her life?

 

* * *

* * *

 

“Alright, Jones,” Emma sighs, handing him a glass of wine before she plops down on the sofa next to him, crossing her legs up on the couch, “I am kid free. I have wine. I have HBO. We are about to have the night of our lives.”

 

He chuckles underneath his breath before taking a sip of his wine and placing it on the side table so that he can grab the giant fleece blanket Emma has and pull it up over them. “When the hell did we become so boring that wine and HBO means having one of the nights of our lives?”

 

“I also have Chinese takeout.”

 

“Touché, love. That makes all the difference.”

 

“Exactly. And I have a three and a half year old. I only get to watch something with cursing when it’s past eight, and usually I’m so tired that I fall asleep on the couch.”

 

“I know. I’m usually the one that has to make sure you don’t hurt your neck by sleeping on the couch.”

 

“Oh yes, my hero.” Emma dramatically rolls her eyes even as the corners of her lips tick up on the side. God, that smile. He loves that smile, and he hates himself for loving it. He’s pretty much decided that he’s going to suffer for the rest of his life loving that smile, and honestly, he’d be okay suffering that way. If Emma’s smiling, it means she’s happy, and she deserves nothing more than to be happy. That’s all he wants for her. “But I’m not doing that tonight, okay? We’re going to catch up on Game of Thrones and stay up far past midnight.”

 

“You’ve never even seen an episode.”

 

“And thus, the catching up.”

 

“Whatever you want, love.”

 

They get caught up in the show, even if he’s seen it as well as reading the books, but watching Emma’s reactions to learning everything is priceless. She gasps and groans in all of the right places, laughing in several inappropriate ones, and she spends far too long coming up with theories that are so far off base that he has a difficult time not saying anything to correct her. He’s not sure if it really is the fact that she has the weight of the world off of her shoulders for one night, Henry spending the night with Mary Margaret so he can spend time with Leo, or if it’s the two glasses of wine she’s had.

 

It’s probably both.

 

The wine is likely heightening things. She’s not much of a drinker, hasn’t been in recent years at least, wasn’t old enough for too long before Henry was born to develop a real tolerance. He’s not saying Emma is a lightweight, but he’s also saying that Emma is a lightweight. And it’s not like he can say much, his drinking having toned down ever since he started helping Emma out with Henry. Time and time again he wanted to drink when Henry wouldn’t stop crying or even when Emma wouldn’t, but he wanted to be there for them.

 

Besides, until a few months ago, he was still in the Navy, and he’d get calls at all hours of the day. No one really wants a drunk Captain, whether he’s at sea or not. He wasn’t spending much time out at sea in the past few years anyways.

 

“He’s cute,” Emma sighs, Rob Stark on screen.

 

“Dark hair and blue eyes your type, Swan?” he teases, nudging his shoulder into his. “Not to mention British.”

 

“Most definitely. That’s an attractive combination. If I were to – oh,” she laughs, her lips gaping open before they close. She slaps his shoulder, the force far too strong to be playful. “You’re an asshole. You know I wasn’t talking about you.”

 

“You most definitely were. I am literally the definition of your type.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Emma says, moving her hair over her cheeks to hide the blush he saw a minute ago, “you wish, Jones.”

 

 _I do_ , he thinks, something inside of his stomach twisting before he makes it stop, makes it twist in an unpleasant way. He can’t. He can’t do this. He can’t flirt with her. But the words keep falling off of his lips. It’s like he can’t stop himself, especially when he falls back on flirting whenever he’s trying to hide something. People always discount flirting, teasing. They don’t take it seriously, so he can say the things he wants. He can hide how he feels without really hiding it.

 

It’s what he has to do.

 

“What is your type?” Emma asks, shocking him out of his thoughts. She’s not watching the screen anymore. She’s watching him, her beautiful green eyes looking directly into his. His skin his buzzing, his entire body really, and he begins to wonder how much he’s actually had to drink tonight.

 

“Swan, you don’t care about that.”

 

“I do,” she promises, twisting her body and placing her hand on his forearm. His skin practically ignites with her touch, and he wonders if he can burn from both her touch and his guilt. “I’ve known you for, like, seven years, and I think I know everything about you except for your ideal woman.”

 

“I don’t have an ideal woman.”

 

“Oh come on, don’t lie to me like that. I know how men work. You like someone with big boobs and a good ass. It’s not that complicated. It’s disappointing for humankind as a whole, but it’s not that complicated.”

 

He groans, reaching up to rub his hand over his face before grabbing his glass and taking a large gulp. How the hell is he supposed to answer this question?

 

“Aye, love, I can say that you lot all have various assets that make you appealing, but, you know, once you’re out of the phase where all you can do is fall into bed with each other, you do have to have things in common, things to talk about. I like to be able to laugh, to have a good time, but values are important, you know?”

 

“You mean, good form and all that?”

 

He laughs, shaking his head back and forth. She’s never going to let it go that he believes in good form. He’s been a military man for too long, been taught too much chivalry from his mother, and even though Emma accepts when he opens doors for her or when he pulls out her chair before they eat, she always murmurs something teasing about good form.

 

Like flirting and innuendos for him, he thinks that’s how she protects herself too. She didn’t have anyone to help her out, to do nice things for her, until she was fifteen and adopted by Ruth Nolan, and even though she’s now twenty-six, he thinks some of those things linger. He knows they do. Scars made when we’re young tend to linger.

 

“Aye, good form, darling. But I’m serious. Yes, obviously I enjoy how a woman looks, but I do like someone who understands me, you know?”

 

“Yeah,” Emma sighs, scooting closer to him and resting her head on his shoulder, “I get it. I want that too, someone who understands me. It’s been…awhile.”

 

He wraps his arm around her shoulder, tugging her closer before kissing her temple. “I understand you, love.”

 

“Yeah, yeah you do.”

 

The rest of the night seems to fly by, and before he knows it, it’s two in the morning and he and Emma have gone through another bottle of wine. At least, he thinks it was one bottle of wine. It might have been two. Honestly, he doesn’t know anything except for the fact that Emma is currently straddling his lap with her hands in his hair and her lips on his.

 

Everything about it is glorious, the sensations overwhelming him. She’s soft, so damn soft, and every inch of her skin is warm. Her lips are warm too. And her tongue. Actually, everything about Emma from her lips and her skin to her compassion is warm. God, he loves her, and he’s not entirely convinced that this isn’t a dream. It has to be a dream because she is kissing him like her entire life depends on it.

 

She is kissing him, and he is giving as good as he’s getting, sucking on her upper lip and making her whimper, the sound shooting straight to his groin. She’s pressed hotly over his length, rolling her hips into his, and every coherent thought he has is gone the more she grinds against him, the more that her tongue tangles with his in a slick, pleasurable dance.

 

But the moment her hands begin to tug on his shirt, begin to try to undress him, he has to stop them. He can’t do this. They can’t do this. And they really cannot do this while drunk. It’s wrong. It’s one of the best moments of his life, but it’s wrong.

 

“Emma,” he breathes, panting really, “we can’t.”

 

“Why not?” she whines, resting her forehead against his, her breath ghosting over his swollen lips.

 

“You know why, love.”

 

Her eyes flutter closed before she’s moving off of him, her steps wobbling a bit. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning when we take Henry to Kaleb’s birthday party, okay?”

 

“Goodnight, Swan.”

 

God, what has he done?

 

* * *

* * *

 

But then there was that night, that glorious night where they’d let the alcohol get to them, where they’d let their inhibitions down, but it was wrong. There was the alcohol. There was Neal. There were far too many reasons why they shouldn’t have done it, but they still did, even if the both of them ignored it for weeks afterward. It wasn’t talked about. It wasn’t referenced. For awhile, he wondered if Emma even remembered.

 

God, he had both hoped that she didn’t remember and also that she did. It felt like he was living in one of the most complex, torturous little loops of time imaginable.

 

He obviously had no idea how wrong he was.

 

Because over four years, three houses, two states, and one new baby later, they were as happy as can be.

 

And now everything has become complicated.

 

As if it wasn’t before.

 

He thinks he’d go back to the complex, tortuous time loop any day over this.

 

Because he’s a bloody wanker.

 

“Ms. Swan,” Dr. Vibuthi calmly begins, obviously used to dealing with upset people if how she’s reacting to Emma’s myriad of questions is any indication, “I cannot begin to understand the ordeal you have been through, but I ask you to be patient with me.”

 

Emma nods her head, her throat bobbing up and down while she bites her quivering bottom lip. God, what he would give to take away all of her pain. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just…I need some kind of information. Something more solid.”

 

“That I can give you. Mr. Cassidy is healthy. He’s not malnourished, he doesn’t have any diseases. From what we can tell, he had several broken bones over the last few years and has several healed scars that you’ll likely see and that may shock you. But there’s nothing currently physically wrong with him.”

 

Killian sighs, releasing the breath he was holding. In the moments where his mind has been clear lately, he’s thought about Neal being tortured. He had to be. There’s likely no way around it, but he’s never wanted to be the one to bring it up. So while from what Dr. Vibuthi has said, he’s sure Neal was tortured at one point, he doesn’t seem to have been lately.

 

At least physically.

 

None of it makes any sense.

 

He cannot come up with any possible explanation for what’s happened. If he could be a fly on the wall in the debriefing that he knows Neal is going to have to do with the CIA, he would. There’s so much he wants to know, even more than just what Neal has been through, but he has a feeling that he won’t be allowed to know any of it. And as close as he and Neal were before, he would bet that they will never be that close again, not with everything that’s happened. 

 

“But what about mentally?” Killian begins, squeezing Emma’s hand. “Can you tell us how he is mentally? What his mindset is?”

 

“Unfortunately not quite yet. He won’t talk about what happened in much detail, but we are running all of the evaluations that we can as I said. We have our own and the military also has several that they’ve asked us to run since Neal has expressed interest in remaining in the service. All he truly talks about, however, is getting back to Emma and Henry.”

 

“Oh God,” Emma gasps, letting go of his hand so she can cover her mouth with both of her hands, her entire body shaking.

 

Why the hell would he want to return to the service? Killian has been retired for five years, and he didn’t even leave in bad circumstances. He simply wanted to be around for Emma and Henry more, wanted to live life. He can’t imagine being held hostage for eight years and wanting to return to the very thing that basically took his life away.

 

“So can we see him?” Killian soldiers on, reaching over and rubbing his hand up and down Emma’s back, stuffing all of his thoughts down and focusing on what’s important right now. “That’s why we’re here, right?”

 

“Yes, you can see him, but for a limited time. We don’t want to overwhelm him. And afterward I’d like to set up an appointment with both of you about his treatment here and when he leaves. Unfortunately, you all have a long road ahead of you.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you ready, love?”

 

“No, but we need to go in. I’ll just freak myself out more if we don’t do it.”

 

“Aye. It’s just…it’s going to be okay, Emma,” he promises, dipping his head down to quickly brush his lips over hers. He hasn’t done that nearly as much as he should lately, a distance between the two of them building, one that he’s likely been putting there himself. What else is he supposed to do when his girlfriend’s husband is back? But still, he loves her, supports her, and he won’t let her think otherwise, not now. “I love you.”

 

She smiles, but it’s weak, sad even. It’s not Emma. “I love you too.”

 

With that, Emma pushes down on the handle and pulls open the door, walking inside on a visibly shaky step as he follows behind her. Neal is sitting in the hospital bed in gray sweatpants and a t-shirt, looking healthier than he did the last time Killian saw him. He’s obviously older, the difference between thirty and thirty-eight hard to miss, but he looks stronger somehow.

 

It’s…jarring.

 

It’s also jarring to see him in person. He’s real. He’s actually alive. Killian knew it to be true, but this is real, physical proof. It makes everything almost surreal. 

 

“Ems,” Neal laughs, a bright smile forming on his lips that causes the lines around his face to wrinkle. He doesn’t say anything else, hopping up from the bed and rushing toward Emma, immediately cupping her cheeks and crushing his lips into hers.

 

That may be the most jarring thing of all.

 

He’s seen Emma kiss Neal, something he saw plenty of times before, but it was never when Emma was the woman he loves, never in a situation like this.

 

He’s never seen Emma kiss Neal when he knows exactly how Emma’s lips feel.

 

Was he allowed to feel jealous? Is that okay? He knows that he can’t just make his emotions disappear, that he can’t stop loving her, that he _won’t_ stop loving her, but there’s no guidelines for this. As far as he knows, nothing like this has ever happened. There’s no one to follow or help tell him what to do.

 

What is he supposed to do when the love of his life’s husband shows up from the dead? What is he supposed to do when his best friend is experiencing some kind of miracle second chance in life and Killian has all of the power to break Neal’s world apart when it’s all finally coming back together?

 

What is he supposed to do if he has to not love the woman who he intended on marrying? The woman who has an engagement ring in the pocket of his old Naval uniform only because he knows she won’t look there. To the mother of his child…to the mother of his children.

 

He wants to say that he’ll step back, that he’ll let them mend their fences, but he can’t do that. He and Emma have a life together. They have Henry. They have Ada, who Neal doesn’t know about yet, which is a bag of bag of worms he doesn’t know how to handle.

 

They can’t hide a child, and bile rises in his throat at the fact that his little girl is going to be a reason for friction. Ada is one of the lights of his life, and she’s done not a thing wrong, so similar to Henry who’s been unusually quiet since he found out his father is alive.

 

It’s all fucked up, and he just doesn’t know what to do. He wants to hold his family and never let go, but he’s likely going to have to let go. He can’t do it, but he may have to. 

 

It’s going to break him.

 

His best friend is alive, and he can barely be happy about it.

 

Neal finally pulls back from Emma, leaning his head against Emma’s forehead in a move that nearly breaks Killian. That’s what he and Emma do. That’s…theirs. His legs practically collapse underneath him, but he refuses to let that happen. He absolutely refuses.

 

Then Neal turns to him, his eyes staring directly into Killian’s. “Jones,” he sighs, “nice to see you, man. Can you believe this?”

 

He can’t.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me (nicely thank you very much) on Tumblr at let-it-raines.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double line breaks around the flashback!

Paperwork is scattered across her sitting room floor. At one point there was visible hardwood, but it’s been replaced with a sea of white paper with neatly printed words written across them, yellow highlighter marks slashed over certain words with handwritten notes added in filling up the margins. There’s some kind of organizational system going on, but she lost track of it hours ago. Now it’s a sea that she’s lost in, that she doesn’t know how to escape from, which is ridiculous considering all of the paperwork on the floor are just articles she found online about how to deal with someone coming home from war.

Or torture.

Or wherever the hell Neal has been.

She still doesn’t know exactly. He won’t talk about it when she visits him in the hospital. He won’t say a thing. Whenever anyone asks him about it, he deflects, changes the subject. It’s like he’s one of her high schoolers who think if they change the subject to the Friday night football game that she’ll forget that she’s trying to help them get into college. She’s not going to forget. It’s her job to help them, and she’s not going to be distracted by something so insignificant.

Neal is not the same way.

It’s been ten days since she saw him for the first time, since she had the tangible proof that he’s alive, and while her world has been thrown upside down, he seems perfectly fine, like absolutely nothing has changed. Every article she’s read, every professional she’s talked to, every conversation she’s had with Killian, it all says that he should be affected in some way.

Hell, he looks better than he did when he left. It doesn’t…nothing makes sense about this. Nothing makes sense about her life.

The fact that Neal moves in to kiss her every time she walks in his hospital room doesn’t help. She’s taken to turning her cheek, the way his lips feel on hers wrong, and after being so shocked that she couldn’t move away when she’d first seen him, she now knows how to better handle the situation. Logically, she understands why he does it. As far as he knows, Emma is still his wife. She hasn’t moved on, she didn’t file the paperwork so that she wouldn’t be married to a dead man anymore. But she has moved on, and she did file the paperwork. Legally, she has no attachments to Neal other than Henry.

Emotionally, it’s another story.

But Neal thinks that she’s his wife, and every time she visits him, he is so damn happy to see her that she’s not sure she can break his heart, not when he probably finally feels happy for the first time in so long. He talks about how much he’s missed her, about how much the thought of she and Henry kept him going all this time. It’s the only concession he makes to where he’s been, to what’s been happening, and a part of her clings to it, clings to the knowledge that she was able to bring him back with just the thought of his love for her.

It also makes her drown in guilt.

How the hell could she have moved on when he spent nearly a decade thinking about her and their child? She must seem so flippant, untrustworthy. She must be one of the worst human beings in the world.

She thinks that a lot. She thinks about how she’s a terrible person until flickers of screaming matches and petty words flash through her mind in a jumbled mess that’s difficult for her to understand and piece together.

“God,” she groans, choking back a sob while she runs her hands through her hair before rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes, finally ending up with her fingers tightly grasping the pendant on her necklace, “this is fucked up.”

And it’s not like she has any relief in thinking of other things. Her life doesn’t get any less complicated outside of Neal. Because when she’s not thinking of how the hell she’s going to fix that and help him adjust to life, help him adjust to Henry, she’s thinking about Killian.

He has been… _amazing_  throughout this entire thing. He is her rock, has been for so long, and she doesn’t know how he’s managing to hold himself together when she knows he must be falling apart too. And she’s not sure that thoughts of her are keeping him together.

She’s sure that it’s thoughts of her that are pulling at all of the strings that are unraveling him.

Because she can’t go back to Neal when there’s Killian here. She can’t leave the man she loves to go back to the man she once loved, the man who has been a ghost to her for longer than she knew him alive. But should she? Should she try to make it work? Is that what she’s supposed to do? Is there even a right answer?

She loves Killian so deeply and so truly that the thought of breaking his heart breaks her. They’re together. They have Ada, they have Henry, and they have each other. They’ve been a family for so long, longer than even the time she and Killian have technically been together, and she can’t break up her family. She can’t.

Yet keeping one family together means breaking another apart. Again.

It all seems so impossible, and it’s honestly the least of her problems when she really thinks about it. It’s just the one that consumes her when she’s home with only a sleeping Ada as company. 

 

* * *

* * *

 

“Momma,” Henry begins, crawling up onto her lap from where he’s been coloring on the floor while she’s been working on her paper for school. She’s so close to finishing, to graduating, and as much as she loves her kid, she kind of wishes he’d still focus on his coloring. 

“Yeah, baby?” She saves her document before closing her laptop, placing it on the couch next to her while she moves Henry in her lap. God, she can’t believe how big he’s getting. He’s still got four months until he turns four, but he’s practically an adult. 

“Where’s Killy?”

Her eyes instinctively close in an attempt to shut out all of her thoughts. Henry and school. All she’s trying to focus on is her son and school. And she’s only really focusing on school because she has to be able to provide for Henry. She has to be able to do something to help him have the best life that he can have. She has absolutely no time to think about Killian Jones or how he has completely changed her entire life. 

She has absolutely no time to think about how his lips feel on hers, how grinding into his jeans feels, how he sounds when she bites his bottom lip. So obviously that’s all she thinks about when she’s alone. 

It’s been three weeks since they kissed, and she’s honestly about another week from going crazy thinking about it. And she can only think about it because they don’t talk about it. She really wants to talk about it. She wants to know if it meant anything to him, if it means to him what it meant to her. She’s had feelings for him for longer than she’s willing to admit, mostly because she wasn’t willing to admit it to herself. 

She’s been with men since Neal died, but it’s always been one date or one night, never really wanting to be in a relationship. A part of it has definitely been guilt, of feeling like she can’t move on because her husband died being an honorable man, but it’s mostly been about Henry. All she’s cared about is Henry. 

And Killian. 

She cares about Killian. A lot. Far more than is appropriate actually. Of all of the men in the world who she could fall for, she was dumb enough to fall for Neal’s best friend. But really, he’s her best friend. He hasn’t always been, but he has been for the past few years. 

And she wants to jump his bones. 

She also wants to date him, to let him into her heart more than she has been, but that’s…too much. It’s all too much, so if she keeps it on a physical level, it’s more understandable. She can’t really keep it on a physical level. 

_“I understand you, love.”_

The words echo in her mind almost as loudly as the feel of his lips on hers continuously replays. Actually, no. They’re louder. They mean more, and those four words…they were everything. 

But then she fucked it up by kissing him, by pushing too far, by making him pull back. And now while they’ve talked, while they’ve spent time together, there’s some kind of distance between them. She doesn’t want a distance between them. It’s been a long time since she wanted something for herself, and she’s struggling to allow herself to want this. 

She wants to be with Killian. She’s just not sure that he wants to be with her. 

She’s not sure that they even can be together.

“He’s coming over for dinner, Henry.” Henry stares at her blankly, almost like he doesn’t know what dinner is when he mostly definitely does. It’s literally his favorite time of the day. He gets to eat and Killian comes over. It’s her son’s two favorite things. He has good taste. “Killy will be here soon. Why don’t you draw him a picture to give him when he gets here?”

“Okay,” Henry sighs, sloppily kissing her cheek before crawling off of her and back to the ground, immediately pulling out a new sheet of paper from his book and getting busy drawing…something. Honestly, some things she can tell. Some things she can’t.

While Henry works on his art, she works on her paper, knowing she needs to finish it so Killian can proofread it after they get Henry to bed. She could send it to Mary Margaret, but Mary Margaret takes absolutely forever to get anything back to her. Killian is much faster, slipping on his glasses and quickly reading through it, finding mistakes as easily as if he was out commanding a ship. 

So maybe something is weird between them, but she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Killian would do anything to help she and Henry. He’s a good man, a gentleman like no other, and she doesn’t know what she ever did to deserve someone like him in her life. Sometimes she thinks that she didn’t. 

That she doesn’t.

She hears the front door of her apartment open, the sound of boots stepping onto the hardwood, and before she can get up to go greet him, Henry is up from the ground and running toward the door, his arms already open so that Killian can scoop him up and swing him around, laughter absolutely rumbling out of her little boy’s stomach. 

“My man,” Killian laughs, shutting the door behind him and carrying Henry back to where she’s sitting, “tell me about your day.”

“I went to school,” Henry exclaims, his little chest still heaving from where Killian was swinging him around. Her chest his heaving a bit too, her heart beating wildly while she’s pretty sure butterflies actually move around in her stomach. 

“Yeah? What’d you do at school?”

“Me and Kaleb ate goldfish crackers. And sat on a rainbow.”

Killian quirks an eyebrow even as his smile covers his entire face, the lines around his eyes crinkling. He looks happy, absolutely besotted with Henry, and she has to work on holding back a sob. Killian is so in love with her kid, and it both breaks and heals her heart. 

She thinks she might be in love with Killian, too. She doesn’t know, though. She isn’t even sure if she’s capable of love anymore, but the way he makes her feel…she doesn’t think she’s ever experienced that before. And of course, that makes her feel awful, guilty even. She was married. Of course she’s felt this way before. Why would she have married Neal if he didn’t make her happy?

He did make her happy, didn’t he? Of course he did. He had to have, and if he were here, he’d love their son this much too. 

But he’s not here. He’s not, and she doesn’t know what to do. 

She just wants to be happy. Neal would want her to be happy, right? 

Killian makes her happy. Killian makes Henry happy.

Shit, she wishes there was some kind of guidebook on how to deal with moving on. There technically are, she’s read enough of them, and even though she feels like she has, sometimes the guilt still nags at her. Like right now. It’s nagging at her right now because she feels free, light almost. And she shouldn’t be allowed to do that.

“A rainbow, you say?” Killian looks at her and waggles his eyebrows, something that makes her laugh without fail. “Was there a pot of gold at the end of it?”

“No. Books.”

“Ah, well, I happen to think books are just like gold. Right, Mummy?”

“I kind of like the gold,” she answers honestly, shrugging her shoulders. 

Killian winks at her before leaning over and quickly kissing her cheek in greeting. “Hello, love. How are you today? Did you sit on any rainbows?”

“I went to work, picked Henry up from daycare, and have been doing school ever since. It’s not really been a sitting on rainbow kind of day.”

“Well, we’ll just have to change that, won’t we?” He shuffles Henry on his lap before standing. “Come on, Master Henry. Let’s make your mummy some dinner and you can tell me more about this rainbow.”

Later, when Henry’s in bed and Killian has finished proofreading her paper, the damn thing finally submitted to her professor, she and Killian are sitting on the couch idly watching TV. She’s not really sure what’s on. She honestly can’t pay attention to it, not with the way her mind is racing. 

“Killian?”

“Yeah, love?”

“Do you think that I’m allowed to move on from Neal?”

He doesn’t reply at first, hurt flashing in his eyes, before he schools his features. What was that? “I think so. You were barely twenty-three years old when he died, and while I think that you’ll never forget him, I don’t think you can spend the rest of your life alone, not if you don’t want to be.”

“And that doesn’t make me a bad person?”

“Not at all, Swan. It makes you human. What happened to you is awful – ”

“What happened to us.”

He gives her a soft smile, one that she really likes. “Aye, what happened to us is awful, but I know that if I had been Neal, if I had been married and died, there is nothing I’d want more than for my wife to be happy.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. That’s what love is, you know? It hurts like hell a lot of the time, but at the end of the day, you just want the person you love to be happy.”

“Killian?”

“Mhm?”

“You make me happy.” She turns to face him, tentatively running her hand along his cheek. His eyes flutter closed, his thick eyelashes dropping against his cheeks, before he opens them and all she can see is that beautiful blue. “Why haven’t we talked about the kiss?”

“Swan.”

“No, seriously. I want to talk about it. It…meant something to me, and I need to know if it did for you too.”

His jaw clenches the tenseness obvious, and her heart drops into her stomach until Killian turns his head and kisses her palm, his scruff a rough contrast to his lips. “Emma, it meant everything to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“You feel guilty,” she finishes for him, knowing that if there’s anyone in the world who understands, it’s him. He was there through it all, but it’s more than that. It’s always been more than that. “Because of Neal.”

“Aye, I do.”  
  
“But didn’t you say he’d want us to be happy? He loved us both. And if it’s okay for me to move on, to want to be free from what I feel like are actual chains holding me down, wouldn’t it be okay for us?”

“Emma, this is a dangerous game we’re playing. You are my best friend. I want to be with you. God, I want to be with you,” he groans, kissing her palms again, shivers running down her spine, before he runs his free hand through his hair, “but it’s more than just us. It’s the past. It’s Henry.”

She knows. She’s knows it’s all of that. She knows that Henry could be affected by this, but honestly, she knows that she and Killian could go up in flames, and Killian would muddle through the ashes to be there for Henry. She’s never been more sure of anything. 

Ever.   
  
“I want to try. I want to let go, and I want to try. We understand each other, right?”

“Right.” He nods and allows the corners of his lips to tick up.   
  
“Then kiss me.”

And he does, leaning forward on the couch and gently sliding his lips over hers, his nose scrunching against her cheek while hers does the same. It’s the same as last time, but it’s different. It’s slower, sweeter, gentle. His hand makes its way into her hair while his thumb moves against the dip in her chin at the same gentle pace that his lips are moving overs hers. She smiles in the middle of it, not able to help herself, and Killian smiles too, pulling back from her for a second and resting his forehead against hers while he smiles down at her. 

She’s happy. 

That’s all she feels. There are no conflicting emotions and warring thoughts. She feels comfortable and happy, and she hopes that she can keep feeling this way. It’s all she’s wanted for so long. 

Happiness. 

Pure and simple happiness.

 

* * *

* * *

 

But she can’t think about any of that right now. The complexity of her life, of her relationship…relationships? Does she have relationships right now? It doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. Right now all that matters is trying to make her life has calm and as normal as possible. It’s not just her she’s thinking about.

It’s never just been her.

“Momma,” Henry yells, running into the room with his bookbag bouncing on his back until he comes to a skidding stop in front of all of her papers, nearly toppling over on top of them, “what are you doing?”

“Work,” she tells him. It’s a bit of a lie, but not totally.

“I thought daddy said you were taking some more time off of work. That’s why you’re not picking me up from school.”  
  
“I am, baby, but I can do a little work from home.” She uncrosses her legs and gets up from the floor, smoothing out her pajama pants. Did she not even change into real clothes today? Has she washed her hair? Brushed her teeth? She’s pretty sure that she brushed her teeth at least. Killian would have told her if she hadn’t brushed her teeth, right? “How was school?”

“So fun! We started a new book today, and it had trains in it. Mary Margaret let me bring it home so I could read it again.”

“Where is Mary Margaret, kid? She didn’t come inside with you?”

He shakes his head, dropping his bag to the ground. “She walked me to the door and let me inside before leaving. Leo has a dentist’s appointment.”

“Gotcha. You want a snack? Ada bug shouldn’t be up from her nap for another hour, so I can help you with your homework.”

Henry groans, throwing his head back and pouting the slightest bit. He’s only the slightest bit dramatic sometimes. “Can’t I eat and watch TV?”

“Nope. We eat, do homework, and then you can watch some TV. You know the rules.”

If there’s anything she knows for sure right now in her life, it’s that she loves her kids, and she’s going to try her absolute hardest to keep their lives as normal and as loving as possible. That is what’s most important. It’s what has to be. She would do absolutely anything to keep them happy, and she will. For as much as she goes through, they are the brightest part of her day without question. 

So she fixes Henry an apple and some peanut butter, trying to keep him healthier than she keeps herself, and sits down with him to do his math homework while he eats. When the baby monitor goes off halfway through, she leaves him to try some problems on his own before going upstairs and getting Ada, changing her diaper and bringing her downstairs. Ada will need to eat in a little while, and with Killian at work, Emma is doing this by herself. So Henry really needs to focus and get things done before her home is a madhouse.

It’s kind of always a madhouse.

“Finished,” Henry sighs, throwing his pencil on the table.

“Did you double check your work?”

“Yeah, but I know daddy is just going to check it again when he gets home from work. Do you think when I get to meet my dad that he’ll help me with homework?”

“I’m sure he’ll love to help you, baby.”

Henry twists in his chair, scrambling out of his seat and taking his plate to throw it away in the bin. “So when do I get to meet him? You and daddy get to see him, but I don’t. It’s not fair. And everyone at school keeps asking me about it.”

“We don’t know yet,” she answers honestly, knowing that it’s better just to tell him the truth. She really hopes that no one is giving him any trouble at school. Mary Margaret would tell her. She’d have to tell her. “I’m meeting with his doctors tomorrow to find out though, okay? You should be able to meet him soon.”

“Yeah, okay.”

On a normal day, she’d get Henry to spend some time outside, but she doesn’t feel like watching him right now. All she wants is to stay inside and not do anything, not think for just a little while, so she allows him to immediately start watching TV. She and Ada join him while he watches The Magic School Bus. She’s been subjected to some pretty awful kids’ shows over the years, so she’s honestly relieved when Henry really gets into something like this. It at least keeps her entertained as well.

Plus, Ada is really into the music and beat of it along with all of the colors, so it keeps her entertained as well. They really need to do some tummy time before she eats, especially since her entire schedule has been off. Emma’s been trying to keep it the same, but it’s so hard right now. Ada’s sleep schedule is about as messed up as Emma’s is right now. She’s got to start fixing that tomorrow.

They’re only on their second episode when the front door opens and closes, Killian’s footsteps sounding as he steps onto the hardwood. She doesn’t need to turn around to know that it’s him. She’d know the sounds of him coming home anytime. It’s something she’s grown accustomed to over the years, no matter where they are living.

“Hi,” he greets, leaning down and quickly kissing her cheek. It’s something he’s done thousands of times, but it feels…different. It feels like it’s friendly, something between friends, not something between them. But she’s imagining things. She has to be. Everything is so crazy right now, that even the life that is normal doesn’t feel normal. And hormones. She still has crazy hormones, right? It’s fine. Everything is fine.

“Hi, my Ada bug,” he laughs a little more enthusiastically, gently taking her out of Emma’s arms and propping her up on his waist while Ada cups his cheeks with her adorably chubby hands. He kisses her cheek, making her laugh. God, her laugh is like pure joy, and Emma doesn’t think she’s ever going to get tired of it. The first time she laughed was a few days ago, and it’s been so fun to make her laugh ever since. She’s really into it when Emma blows raspberries on her stomach or when she drops her toys, and the laughter that comes from both of those things is precious. “I missed you today, my little love. Yeah, Daddy missed you quite a bit.” Her eyes follow him as he sits down in the center of the couch, right between she and Henry.

“Hey, lad. How was school?”

“I already told Mom.”

“You still have to tell me. You know that. I want to hear about your day.”

When Killian pauses the show, she thinks that Henry might lose it, but he doesn’t, only groaning the slightest bit. “It was good. I took my science test.”

“How’d you do? You ace it?”

“I think so. There was one question, with the photo plant thing.”

“Photosynthesis.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know that one, but I tried.”  
  
“That’s all you gotta do, bud,” Killian tells him, a bright smile on his face while he alternates between talking to Henry and running his fingers over Ada’s stomach to keep her entertained. “Did you and Mum already do your homework?”

“Yeah, but you’ve got to check it. It’s math.”

“I will after dinner, okay?” Killian presses play on the remote, the show playing again, before leaning over to her and whispering in her ear, “Can I talk to you in the kitchen for a minute?”

The familiar feeling over nausea she’s been feeling for a little under a month now takes over, but she nods, getting up from the couch and walking through the archway to the kitchen while Killian follows behind her, Ada still in his arms. She’s starting to get fussy, fidgeting a bit, and before she and Killian sit down at the kitchen table, she takes her out of his arms and gets ready to feed her.

“What’d you want to talk about?”

Killian reaches up and runs his hand over his stubble, his fingers tapping against the skin. He’s nervous. Why is he nervous? He shouldn’t be nervous.

“I got a call from one of Neal’s therapists today.”

“Dr. Vibuthi?”

“Dr. Carter. He was checking to see what we plan on doing for his home situation. I suggested we put him up in a nice hotel, like we talked about, until we figure out how exactly to tell him about us since we’re supposed to be easing him into the changes.”  
  
“Where’s the but in this scenario?”

“But,” Killian continues, “Dr. Carter says that he really needs to be staying somewhere familiar, such as his house before he left. I tried to explain to him that we’re living somewhere different, that it’s not even the same state, but he was insistent.”

“He can’t stay here, though. There’s evidence of our life, of Ada, everywhere.”

“I know. I told him that, that there was no way in hell I’d hide my daughter or act like she was something to be ashamed of, but he insisted. And God,” Killian sighs, running his hand through his hair, “I don’t know what to do. They tell us he has to stay with us but that we’re supposed to ease him into life here. It’s all so fucking complicated.”

She almost instinctively covers Ada’s ears, not wanting her to hear the curses even if she’s too young to truly understand things like that, only picking up things that they say over and over again. It’s just habit, and she really doesn’t want her baby’s first word to be fucking.

That would be something.

“So what do you think? What? We set him up in the guest room for a little while, until we figure things out. We have him meet Henry, let them get to know each other a bit, and then we sit down with him and tell him about what’s going on with us?”

“I guess. I don’t really see another option. We just have to rip the band-aid off. From what I can tell, despite everything, Neal seems fine. And he’s a grown man. As much as, yes, we have to ease him into things, he’s not going to want to be babied. You know how he hates that.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s true.” She doesn’t want to say the next words, but she has to. She can’t not know. Maybe she’ll be able to sleep if she knows. “Are we going to stay together, Killian?”

His eyes blow wide before they settle, his face becoming as neutral as possible. She’s seen him do it a million times, and she’s not sure that she likes what it means. “I don’t know, love. I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, if it’s the honorable thing to do.”

“I don’t care about honorable. I love you. That doesn’t just change. And I know it’s not even the most important thing right now, but it is consuming me.”  
  
“Emma, I love you and our kids more than anything in the world, but this isn’t a black and white situation. If you want to have another chance with Neal, I have to give you that chance. Do you know what you want?”

_You_ , she thinks.

_You_ , she knows.

“No,” she says instead, the truth unable to pass her lips. “I feel like I don’t know anything. I feel like I have no answers, but I don’t want to leave you. I also just don’t want to hurt Neal. He doesn’t deserve that.”  
  
“No, he doesn’t, but this is where we are. I’m sorry, Swan, but if this is how our life is going to be, we’re going to have to make some hard decisions, okay? It’s going to be bloody awful at first, but we don’t have a choice. We should just try to be happy that Neal is getting his second chance. We’ll figure out things as we go. I make plans for a living, but this is it. This is all I can come up with for us right now.”

She feels the tears welling up in her eyes again, the sting of fresh water, and she wonders why the hell this couldn’t have happened when she wasn’t still adjusting to having a baby. She’s not sleeping, her hormones are all over the place, and absolutely everything is heightened. It’s awful. Every time she cries she feels ridiculous even if she knows that she’s not. She wouldn’t be ridiculous for crying even if she wasn’t in one of the world’s most stressful situations, but nothing makes her feel better. Nothing except for her kids.

And Killian. Killian makes her feel better which only makes everything worse.

“So did Dr. Cater say when they were releasing Neal? I thought this is what we were talking about at the appointment tomorrow.”

“Aye, it is, but he wanted to run over a few more things with me beforehand.”

“But what did he say about when?”

“He said Neal could come home tomorrow, actually.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That one wasn't too bad, was it? 
> 
> (It might have been bad. I'm a little more immune to things than you guys are because I'm writing it and know the future.)
> 
> With a situation like this, things are going to get worse before they get better. It's just what's natural. It's not an easy thing, and it's difficult to deal with. But I promise a happy ending. I also promise that not every chapter will be angsty. We just have to get there :D


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've pretty much accepted that you guys are going to yell (nicely) at me for this story. I really do hope that you embrace it (because you are all so awesome, and I appreciate every read, kudos, comment, etc so dang much) and know that for the beginning of the story, that's when the emotions are going to be all over the place...it's when things are angsty basically. 
> 
> I like to think it's fun :D
> 
> Anyways, here's another chapter! I already know you guys are going to have *feelings* about one part. 
> 
> As always, the flashback is within double line brackets.

“So I’m really into trains right now,” Henry tells Neal, showing off the set he’d gotten for his eighth birthday last month while they all sit in the living room and attempt to have a normal conversation that’s not full of awkward silences and pauses after someone finishes talking.

Neal is sitting in their living room talking to his son. It’s beautiful. It’s wonderful, really. Neal deserves to get to know Henry, and Henry sure as hell deserves to get to know Neal. Killian just thought this would never happen. Neal was dead. He was never coming back, and yet he did. He came back.

He’s here.

It’s a miracle if Killian has ever seen it. His mate is back from the dead, and he’s getting to spend time with his son.

His mate is back, and he gets to spend time with all of them. With Emma. With him. It’s a reunion in every sense of the word, and as happy as he is, as happy as he can be, he still feels a little sense of dread every time he looks at Neal. That’s not something he’s ever really felt before, even when Neal was suggesting idiotic plans on a night out.

Killian’s starting to think that he may never come up with a solution that’s not going to hurt someone when it comes to their new family situation. And as much as he doesn’t want to be the person who takes the pain, who is the one who gets hurt the most, he’d suffer so Emma can be happy. It might be the worst decision of his life, but all he wants is Emma’s happiness.

Even if it kills him.

He wants Neal’s happiness too. Neal is getting a second chance at life, and he should get to be happy. After what he’s been through, he deserves the world.

But right now Killian and Emma are still together. Things might not be normal, but neither of them have made any sort of move to end things. Bloody hell does he not want to end things. He knows that when their lives calm down, when they get Neal back into a regular schedule and life, he and Emma will have time to actually talk about things, more than just yesterday at the kitchen table for five minutes while Henry was distracted with TV and Ada was eating. Right now, though, their focus is on their children and on Neal. Not on them. 

As important as his relationship is to him, it’s not a pressing matter right now.

Which is exactly why Neal is set up in their guest bedroom as of this morning and is currently spending time with Henry. In a move that he absolutely did not like, they had to tell Henry that he couldn’t talk about Ada, not yet. His boy is a brilliant lad, so he’d gotten the most incredulous look on his face, and Killian had lied to him about the reasoning, stating something about it being a surprise for later. It felt as if lead had dropped in his stomach.

They’re doing what they have to do, though. They’re getting through this. They’ll let Henry spend time with Neal while Mary Margaret discreetly watches Ada in the kitchen where Neal hasn’t been, and after Henry and Neal have had some time together, Killian and Emma will take the plunge and tell him how life has changed since he’s been gone. 

They’re not going to hide their child, not permanently, but they have to if just for a little while to do what’s best for Neal. 

If he’s been alive this entire time, he has to have known that things would change, that life wouldn’t stand still. That’s not how things work. Even when you don’t want the earth to keep rotating and revolving, it does. 

There’s no stopping it. 

Ripping off the band-aid, he’d said yesterday when talking to Emma at the kitchen table and again before they’d gone to bed. It’s easier than living a lie, living in secret, and it’s what they have to do. For all of the confusion, the one thing he knows that he and Emma agree on completely is the fact that their children come before anything else.

Without a doubt.

They are the only part of this that are not complicated, even if it doesn’t seem that way now. Hell, they’ve got their son lying and Mary Margaret hiding their daughter in the other room. She’s been fussy lately, so Emma didn’t want her out of the house, especially since they usually all spend their mornings together playing with her before he goes to work. And they wanted Mary Margaret around to help with Henry while they talk to Neal since they’re not exactly expecting the smoothest of sailings. Nothing bad, really. They just know it’ll be shocking for him.

So maybe the kids are a bit complicated for today, but it’ll get better. It’ll get better, and they’ll all adjust. Things take time.

“I liked boats before that,” Henry continues, moving his train across the coffee table, “but then my friend Avery rode on a train that went under the ocean, and I thought that was super cool. Plus, Mary Margaret had us read about them during reading time.”

“He’s always getting into new things,” Emma helpfully supplies, and her hand reaches for his, their fingers touching before she suddenly pulls back, like she’s remembering where they are. “I’m sure by the new year it’ll be airplanes or something.”

“So you’re creative, buddy?” Neal questions, reaching over to ruffle Henry’s hair, and Killian internally cringes, knowing that Henry hates that. But Neal doesn’t know. He has no idea. He’s obviously trying, and they’ll work with him. They have to work with him. That’s the only way this will work. Besides, Neal deserves to know all of the little things his son loves and hates. He deserves to get to be a dad after missing so much.

Killian cannot imagine how it must feel to have missed so much of his child’s life. He doesn’t think he could cope had he missed all of his firsts with Ada, all of the moments, actually. He doesn’t know how he’d cope if he’d missed them with Henry too. Having to go to work is hard enough when Emma sends him videos of Ada completely rolling over or laughing. God, he loves her laugh. It’s like pure joy. 

He’d been around when Henry was an infant, but not as much as he wishes he could have been now that he’s been there for nearly everything the past seven or so years. He’d missed all the firsts like the laughs and the smiles, rolling over and crawling and such. He and Emma had been close but not close like they grew to be. So in a way he did miss several big moments in Henry’s life too, and he does deeply wish that he’d been around on the day that Emma heard Henry giggle for the first time. The first time he heard Ada…he can’t even describe it, and if he could change some things, he’d have been around for absolutely everything for Henry too.

“Yeah,” Henry answers, patting down his hair until it lays in weird patterns on his head, “I like a bunch of different stuff. Daddy bought me a new storybook for my birthday, too, and I can write my own stories in it. I wrote one the other day about a train that can fly. But it’s different than an airplane.”

He feels Emma’s entire body tense next to his, and when he dares look over at her, he can see tears already streaming down her face while her hand messes with the pendant on her necklace. He wants to wipe them from her cheeks, but he can’t. Instead he quickly squeezes her knee before looking over at Neal who looks confused, his brows knitted together and his lips pursed even if Killian swears that he saw a flash of anger at first glance.

He's not sure of anything, though, not with the way his heart is absolutely pounding in his chest. Maybe they should have asked for a doctor to be here as well.

For when he inevitably has some kind of heart attack.

“What are you talking about Henry? How could I have bought you a book?”

“You didn’t. My daddy did.”

“Henry, I’m your daddy.”

“No,” Henry laughs, and Killian would step in if his voice was working right now, if he could focus on something besides the pounding in his head and in his heart. They should have realized this would happen. How did they not? They thought about him talking about Ada, but they never thought about him calling Killian daddy in front of Neal. Shit. He thought they’d thought of everything, thought they’d worked out how to do this in the short time that they had to work through things, but Henry’s obviously decided to speed things along. The damn psychiatrist and all of those specialists have not helped this transition at all. “You’re my _dad_. He,” Henry says as he points to Killian, “is my daddy.”

“Henry,” Emma croaks, her voice breaking, “why don’t you go in the other room and ask Mary Margaret for something to eat, okay?”

“Okay. Do you think I can have some chicken nuggets even though it’s the morning?”

“Yeah, kid, sure. Whatever you want.”

Henry walks out of the room without a care in the world, waving at Neal with this giant smile on his face before leaving. To be so young and innocent. It’s a wonderful blessing.

“Emma,” Neal grits, his jaw ticking while his fist continuously clenches and unclenches. It’s a sign of anger management that Killian saw time and time again when he was going through therapy after his first deployment. “Why did he just say that Killian is his father?”

Emma looks to him, her eyes bright with both shed and unshed tears, and he simply nods, trying to force the tight smile on his face into a comforting one. His heartbeat is irregular, his face heating up, and he’s sure that the entire neighborhood can hear it. It’s as loud as a drum beating in his ears.

“Neal,” Emma hesitantly begins, a gulp visibly moving through her throat while her hand shakes, “I…we have something to tell you, and I don’t know how you’re going to take it.”

“What is it, Ems? Because if it’s just that Henry thinks Killian is like a father figure, that’s great. He’s his godfather anyways. I just think it’s a little weird that he calls him daddy. I feel like that’s something that has to be taught and encouraged.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

“Daddy,” Henry yells, running toward him and wrapping his arms around his legs, the force nearly knocking Killian back as he walks in the front door. “Momma has a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” he laughs, picking Henry up and absolutely ignoring the way he just called him daddy. That has never happened before, but if he didn’t have a lanky five year old on his hip, he’d probably cry from the affection and confusion of it all. “What could Mummy possibly have to surprise me?”

“It’s a secret, so I can’t tell you.”

“Ah,” he sighs, nodding his head as he walks them back into the house and to the kitchen where he can hear Emma moving around. What the bloody hell is she doing in the kitchen? They’re supposed to go out to dinner tonight. “So I’ll just have to wait to find out then.”

“Happy birthday,” Emma greets when he and Henry walk into the room. She steps away from where she’s icing a cake and moves toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck before she slants her lips over his. She tastes of sugar, and he absolutely cannot wait to explore that a little more later. Once Henry is in bed. The lad needs to go to sleep early tonight. He won’t, but a man can wish. It is his birthday after all.

“Hmm, thank you, my love,” he tells her, kissing her one more time until he pulls back and looks at Henry who’s got the most mischievous smile on his face. “Young Master Henry tells me that you have a surprise for me.”  
  
“I do,” she smiles, her eyes lighting up while she falls back on flat feet, her height drastically changing as she moves back over to their counter. “Because you, my sweet man, are now thirty-five, I’ve made you a cake. And it’s edible too. I know because I had David help me.”

“So I should thank David for this creation?”

“Probably. But that’s not the only surprise.”  
  
He raises an eyebrow. What has she been planning? When has she even had time to plan? The end of the school year is a busy time for her. She’s been running herself into the ground trying to get all of those seniors to graduate.

“Really now?”

“Mhm,” she hums. “Henry, baby, why don’t you go get it?”

Henry squirms in his arms until Killian puts him down, his long legs running into the other room. God, he’s really gotten big. He’s got to stop growing up. He’ll be six this year, and no part of Killian is okay with it. He wants time to stop ticking by him because he’s more upset about Henry turning six than he is upset about him officially being in his mid-thirties as of this morning.

“Darling, you really didn’t need to go through all of this fuss.”

“Nonsense. You always do it for us. Why shouldn’t we do it for you?”

“Because you don’t have to.” He walks over to her and wraps his arm around her waist, dipping his head and kissing her again. “I love you, Swan.”

“I love you too, babe.”

“Shhh, shhh,” he hears Henry say, and for a brief moment he wonders if Emma really went out and bought a dog for them, but then he sees familiar blue eyes and curly hair that definitely don’t belong to a dog.

Liam.

Bloody hell. Liam is here.

“Happy birthday, little brother,” Liam wishes, a bright smile on his face. He can’t believe this. He can’t believe Emma flew his brother here from London just for his birthday.

“Younger, you ponce,” Killian laughs, stepping away from Emma and walking over to Liam, wrapping him up in a hug, feeling immediate warmth when Liam’s arms wrap around his shoulders. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

Liam pats him on the back a few times before pulling back and clapping him on the shoulder. “Your lovely lady called me a few weeks ago and asked if I could manage to fly across the pond to see you. And how could I pass up seeing you as well as my favorite little man?”

“That’s me, right?” Henry asks, standing on his toes and scrambling so he can be closer to eyelevel with he and Liam.

“Of course that’s you,” Liam promises, squatting down to Henry’s level. “You did such a good job helping me.”

“Thank you.”

Killian lets Liam and Henry talk before walking back over to Emma and wrapping his arms around her waist again, burying his face in her hair and kissing along her jaw, only increasing his efforts when she squeals. “I bloody love you,” he growls into her ear, biting down on the lobe the slightest bit, “and I absolutely cannot wait to get you alone tonight so that we can celebrate my birthday in private.”  
  
“Yeah?” Emma giggles, twisting in his arms.

“Most definitely. You have plans for me, and I, darling, have _plans_  for you.”

“I’m amazed that you guys are able to live with a child,” Liam laughs, walking over to them with his hands over Henry’s ears, “because you are not subtle at all.”

“Don’t be jealous, Liam,” Emma teases, pulling back from him and swiping her finger through the icing on the cake. “I’m sure we will spend plenty of time with you too. Though I do suggest you run to the Walgreens around the corner and gets some earplugs. Your room shares a wall with ours.”

Later, after they’ve gone out to dinner with everyone – David, Mary Margaret, and Leo joining them at the restaurant – and he’s spent some time with Liam, catching up on everything, he and Emma are lounging in bed. He’s exhausted but sated. Though, if Emma keeps running her foot up and down his calf like she’s doing, he’ll be ready and willing for another round soon enough.

Who says he’s an old man? He has stamina.

“Have you had a good day?” she asks, her finger curling his chest hair until she releases it and moves onto another patch.

“Aye, wonderful,” he promises, patting her back before sliding his hand down and lightly tapping her ass, squeezing the firm skin in a way that makes Emma giggle. “You are wonderful. You know that?”

“I do, but I like to be reminded in ways other than my son giving me gifts he made in school that say that.”

Emma kisses his chest, just above his heart, and his breath hitches. He’s got to talk to her about what happened when he got home. “Darling, I need to talk to you about something.”

All of her movements stop and she pulls back, sitting up in bed and pulling the blanket around her shoulders, closing herself into a ball. “What?”

“When I got home today, uh,” he reaches up to scratch behind his ear, “Henry called me daddy.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, and, like, I’m fine with it. I have no qualms. I’ve always thought of Henry like he was my son, I love him like that, but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with it. This is all totally up to you of how we want to go about this.”

“Babe, you’re Henry’s parent too. You know that, right? It might not be legal or biological or whatever, but that doesn’t matter. You love him. He loves you. It’s…you’ve been a dad to him for almost his entire life, and if he wants to call you daddy, he should be able to. I know that you’re in this for the long haul, that you’re not going to leave us.”

“But what about – ”

“Neal.”

“Yeah.”

“Of course I wish that Neal were here to be Henry’s dad, but he’s not. And he’s not coming back. And honestly, if there was anyone in the world who Neal would want to help take care of Henry, it’d be you.”

“So you don’t think we should ask him not to call me that?”

“No,” Emma sighs, leaning forward and cupping his cheeks with her palms, “we shouldn’t. When he’s older and can understand a little better, we’ll explain things to him. But, Killian, you are his daddy. You are.”

“Daddy,” he repeats, trying to weigh the words on his tongue. He’s obviously feeling bold tonight because he asks something he’s been hoarding away for months now. “Love…do you ever…would you…”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

“You’re going to ask if I ever think about having another baby. With you preferably.”  
  
He chuckles, all of the happiness of today settling comfortably in his stomach. “Yeah, the with me part is pretty big. So do you?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, and he’s continuously blown away with how beautiful she is, with how much he loves her, “I do. I want to, actually. I feel like…I feel like it’s right for us, you know? We should have kids. Henry should have a sibling. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. I just…I want it. With you. More than I can even describe.”

He tugs Emma back down on top of them, letting her chest land on his and their legs tangle together while he caresses her cheek, looking into her eyes and hoping that she can see just how much he loves her. “Emma Swan, I would love to make a baby with you one day.”

“Do you want to practice a little more because I have to get my implant – ”

He doesn’t let her finish, bringing her lips down to his and sliding them over hers in a kiss that is a hell of a lot sweeter than the icing that was on his birthday cake.

Thirty-five might be his favorite birthday.

 

* * *

* * *

 

 It’s not really something that has to be taught, but Killian’s not dumb enough to say that out loud. Kids are pretty intuitive, and they can figure out a lot of things on his own. Killian’s still not sure what prompted Henry to call him “daddy” for the first time. He’s not sure if someone at his school accidentally mistook Killian for Henry’s father, not knowing the situation, or if maybe the kids in his kindergarten class asked about it. Honestly, it could have been a million little things, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. He is Henry’s dad just as much as Neal is. 

He wants to say more than, but that’s not fair to Neal. Not at all. It’s not his fault that he hasn’t been around.

“No, um,” Emma stutters, biting her bottom lip, “that’s not it.”

“Fuck, Ems,” Neal groans while his fists still move, fingers fidgeting. “Just tell me.”

They shouldn’t have done this yet. They should have given Neal more time. He’s only been home from…wherever he was, the details still unclear even to him, for a month. And he’s only been in their house for a day. For less than a day. Only for a few hours. They were at least going to give him this morning, give him a moment to breathe, but plans never stick.

They weren’t going to have Henry just blurt out the news.

“Henry calls Killian daddy because to him, Killian is his daddy,” Emma explains, fidgeting her fingers on her knees. “He’s known about you for awhile, since we felt like he was old enough to understand, and he knows that Killian isn’t his biological father, that you are. But he just kind of started calling Killian that when he was five, and Killian and I agreed that it was okay. And, um,” she gulps, and at this point he can’t not touch her, so he reaches over and twines their fingers together, squeezing her hand and letting her know that it’s all okay, letting her know that she can stop fidgeting, that she can do this. As soon as their fingers interlock, however, Killian sees a flash of confusion flicker across Neal’s eyes before his jaw ticks and his teeth obviously grind, his knuckles going white.

“ _My_ kid calls Killian daddy because you’re together,” Neal finishes for Emma, and he feels the lead in his stomach grow heavier. Can he really be this weighed down by his own guilt? Should he even really be this guilty?

“We, um,” Killian begins, trying to take some of the weight off of Emma since he knows she must be drowning in it, somehow more than him, “we also have a daughter together. Her name is Ada, and she’ll be five months old tomorrow.”

“So what?” Neal darkly chuckles, his hand reaching up to rub at the hairs on his chin, “you knocked her up and then tried to be together? Just because you guys fucked up doesn’t mean you have to try to be in a relationship. Also, what the hell man? You slept with my wife? You better have been drunk or something because damn, that’s messed up. I never would have slept with Milah, and she was smoking hot, which was probably why she so easily cheated on you in the first place.”

Anger pulses through his entire body, and while he knew that this would be hard, that there would be no way Neal was immediately accepting of this, he didn’t expect such vile remarks thrown at them. First, that he implied that he and Emma had to be intoxicated to sleep together. Yes, they first kissed while drunk, but they also put a stop to it. They’re together because they love each other, and he didn’t knock Emma up. It was a planned choice. Neal speaks like he owns Emma, and he doesn’t. No one owns Emma, and she can make her own damn choices. The Milah thing stings, Neal throwing his past scars in his face, but he’s in no way pissed about that. Neal has just insulted his character, his love, and his child. He will not stand for it no matter what Neal has been through.

“Neal,” Killian grits, his teeth practically grinding to dust and his hand holding onto Emma’s so tightly that he hears her whine in pain before he releases her, “I understand that you’ve been through a lot, more than we can understand, but you can’t talk to us that way. It’s a difficult situation, but it’s not going to help if we’re throwing insults at each other.”

“You fucked my wife, dude. How am I supposed to respond to that? A fucking gift basket.”

“First of all,” Emma sneers, her voice clipped and concise as her hands tremble, “there are children in the other room, children who do not need to hear all of this, especially the language you’re practically screaming. Secondly, Neal, none of this is ideal. Not a bit of it, but things happened. I lived a life that made me happy. We thought you were dead, and somehow you’re alive. Shouldn’t that be our main focus?”

“It’s kind of hard to focus on that right now. I spent years dreaming of coming home to you and Henry, Ems. And I finally get to, and that fantasy is destroyed. I wanted to be a family. Can’t we be a family again?”

Neal’s voice breaks, tears beginning to stream down his face, and Emma looks at Killian, sorrow and anger mixed in a storm in her eyes, before patting his hand and going to squat next to Neal, rubbing her hand up and down his back in soothing circles as she whispers quietly in his ear, Neal nodding his head up and down before he twists and sobs into Emma’s shoulder, his eyes flickering up to Killian for a brief moment.

But not brief enough that Killian doesn’t notice a flash of…something there.  

He could punch a wall, break his hand, and not at all be sorry about it right now for the storm that’s raging inside of him, one that he knows is much darker than the one he saw in Emma’s eyes.

This is going to be hell.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is calmer, I promise :D


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I thank you all for truly being some fantastic readers! And the double line breaks indicate a flashback.

“Morning, Ems,” Neal greets her, yawning the slightest bit as he muddles around the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot she made about thirty minutes ago. She’s surprised there’s any left. She’s had two large cups after not getting any sleep last night. She’s been trying not to get back into drinking a lot of caffeine ever since she found out she was pregnant with Ada, having avoided it altogether for at least eleven months, and she’s trying to keep from getting back into her bad habits, especially when she’s still breastfeeding.

With how little she sleeps lately, the coffee has been calling her name.

Not literally. She hasn’t quite lost her mind yet, surprisingly enough.

“Morning,” she mumbles, taking a sip of her own drink while she finishes off some emails from work. They may have allowed her to take the rest of the semester off, keeping on her replacement from her maternity leave last semester, but she didn’t want to let all of the students she’s been working with for the past two years to not have her help applying to colleges when she’s been the one working with them and helping them every day. It also gives her something to do besides spend her time trying to calm her racing mind down or talking to a five-month-old. There’s only so much Ada can coo back. “How’d you sleep?”

“Okay. It’s taking some getting used to, but you know I’ve always had issues trying to get comfortable at night.”  
  
“Yeah, you have. We can buy you a mattress topper or a new bedspread or something if it’ll make you more comfortable. That’s not the best bed. It’s Killian’s old one from a million years ago, so if you let me know, I can take you to Target or something.”

Neal hums while he walks toward her and settles down across from her at the kitchen table. “What are you doing?”  
  
“Working. Ada’s morning nap is pretty much my only free time during the day, so I like to get a little done. What time is your therapy?”

“One. Why?”

She closes her laptop and looks up at him. He’s been here for two weeks, and it’s still just so damn weird looking at him. He looks so different, but sometimes when he smiles, she gets flashes of the man he once was before he left. “I can drop you off if you want. I know you’ve been taking an Uber, which cool, right? So much better than having to call a cab like we used to have to do. But I figured I could take you on my way to take Ada to the park and then after we can get Henry from school so he doesn’t have to stay late with Marg.”

Neal’s eyes light up, the excitement obvious in them, and she smiles to herself. His first meeting with Henry was a disaster, and she’s still kind of (extremely) pissed over what he said to her and Killian in the heat of the moment, but Neal has been so excited about spending time with Henry that she can’t help but forgive him a little bit. He was obviously just in shock and probably a little angry. She can’t blame him, not really, not with everything he’s been through and what exactly he came home to. It’d be hard for anyone to find out the world you thought you knew wasn’t at all what you thought.

He could have chilled out a bit, but Neal has never been one to control his emotions well.

She’s upset, but she’s not mad. It’s weird, and she’s stopped trying to explain it to herself. She really will go crazy if she keeps trying to make sense of everything.

She hopes Neal’s getting through a lot during his therapy sessions, even if he’s only been to two sessions since leaving the hospital, but hopefully he’ll keep going to all of his appointments and get to at least attempt to come to terms with everything. She doesn’t know how, but she hopes that he will. For him, for Henry, for everyone.

And they’re not exactly talking about anything at home. It’s like there’s a giant elephant in every room of the house, and she, Killian, and Neal are all ignoring it while Henry runs around like she’s just given him free reign at Disney World.

It’s probably unhealthy, but it’s easier for her right now. And honestly, she’s tired. She’s tired of Killian skirting around her and only showing her the minimum amount of affection, and she’s tired of Neal always looking at her with these longing eyes before he goes back to the iPhone he’s trying to learn how to use ever since Killian took him to Verizon last week. Yeah, they have some shit to figure out, but she can’t stop her life anymore to make this her sole focus. Maybe she should be more sympathetic to the both of them, but honestly, to her, she’s not in some kind of tragic love triangle. She’s just not. Even if she was in love with Neal a long time ago, she can’t just fall back in love with him now. Doesn’t mean things aren’t complicated, and while she was freaking out (how could she not be?) at first, she’s not anymore.

Okay, so a part of her is definitely still freaking out. But it’s a lesser part than last week.

Weirdly, while she thought having Neal at home would make things worse, it’s helped. It’s helped her to look at things as a one step at a time kind of deal. It’s made things more real without all of these thoughts and theories running around in her head. It’s actually made her calmer no matter how weird it is to have a man she thought was dead in her home. He’s similar to how he was, but he’s definitely more different than anything.

Thinking about what he must have been through breaks her heart, and sometimes she needs a moment to herself to collect her sob, take a deep breath, and be the person she has to be now. What’s that commercial about parents not being able to take a sick day? It’s for Tylenol or something. She’s not sure, but she understands it now even more than she did when she was alone with a one-month-old baby with no idea what she was doing until Ruth finally came to stay with her for awhile.

Normalcy is all she wants right now. She’s got to get everything back to normal.

Neal didn’t even know how to work a smart phone which makes sense but was still shocking in a way, especially since she remembers him having a Blackberry a million years ago. He’s doing well learning, though. He’s successfully used Uber several times to go to therapy and then out to eat on his own.

And she thinks his focus is all on adjusting back into a normal rhythm and getting to know Henry, so that’s really good. She wants Henry to know him and to be happy with having his dad back in his life as a normal, everyday thing. Neal’s going back to work after Thanksgiving too. She finds that a bit ironic. She took an entire semester off because of everything, and Neal’s diving right back into things.

Good for him. He should get the normalcy if that’s what he wants. She may never get back to the normalcy she’s trying to achieve, but Neal deserves it after everything. He’s doing so well when some of the worst things imaginable have been happening to him for so long. She can’t quite get over any of that.

“Yeah? We could pick up Henry?”

“Sure. I was thinking it’d probably be good for you to get to see his school, and he’s always the most chatty right after a day since he’s been hoarding all of this information all day so he can talk about it at home. And, like, I totally don’t want you to buy his love or anything, but the kid loves ice cream. There’s a shop just around the corner from the school.”

“Ice cream in November?”

She shrugs. “He’s got my sweet tooth.”

“I can see that.”

“So, um, yeah,” she sighs, scooting back in her chair and taking her glasses off of her face and placing them on her laptop, “we’ll do that. I’m going to go get ready and feed Ada when she wakes up. Help yourself to anything, as you know. I’m going to go grocery shopping tomorrow, so if there’s something you want, put it on the list on the fridge, okay?”

“Will do, Ems.”

She nods her head, not having anything else to say, before walking upstairs and heading into her room, closing the door so that she can take a shower. She really should have done that earlier, but this morning was so hectic. She got Henry ready for school on her own because Killian had to be at work at six for the damn monthly conference he has to do once a month, which seems to always fall on the day where Ada decides to have some kind of meltdown. But it’s all fine now. She got Henry in Mary Margaret’s car, and Ada eventually stopped crying once she ate and got another bath despite the one she had last night.

Kids are hard. Really damn hard.

Her shower is soothing though, the water washing away a lot of her stress as she adjusts the shower head and lets the water pound into her back instead of gently washing her off. Even though she doesn’t really have the time, she takes it to deep condition her hair, knowing how dry it’s been lately, and she actually shaves her legs. All of the way up and not just up to her knees or up to where her leggings show her skin when she’s running errands. She’s been in a relationship for a long time, so while shaving doesn’t always get done, it does get done more often than it has been lately.

It’d probably help if she was actually sleeping with Killian. That would get her to shave more often, but they pretty much fall asleep after making sure they’ve talked about their schedules for the next day. And they pretty much always fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed. Sometimes they drift together in the middle of the night, and she craves those nights and the warmth of Killian’s body wrapped around hers, but that hasn’t really been happening.

Okay, so yeah, her relationship is having some issues that she should probably think about and talk about some more, but she’s just letting Killian work through whatever it is that’s going through his mind. She tries to talk to him about it sometimes, but for once, he’s not feeling like opening up to her. He’s just not. He feels things so deeply all the time, usually more than any person she’s ever known, and while he has gotten good about sharing with her, sometimes he reverts back to how he used to be and keeps it all to himself.

She hates that.

If anything, she thinks that’s what’s freaking her out the most about Killian lately, not about her life as a whole. Killian has always been there for her, always, and even though he’s right here with her, sometimes he feels so far away. He’s not supposed to feel this far away.

 

* * *

* * *

 

“Sweetie,” Mary Margaret calls, and David immediately walks over to her from where he was talking to Killian over by the grill, “will you please go check on the boys?”

“The burgers might burn if I leave them.”

“Killian can watch them. So can we. We all know how to cook.”

“Emma doesn’t.”

“Hey,” she protests, shaking her head from side to side while sipping on her lemonade, “I can. I may not be, like a professional chef, but I can cook a decent meal. I have a six-year-old who I feed on a daily basis.”

“I cook a lot of our meals, love.”

“Hush,” she laughs, rolling her eyes at Killian and the stupid smirk he has on his face. “I cook all of the time, and I really feel like you guys shouldn’t be making fun of me when I provided the desserts for today.”

“Didn’t we bring ice cream?”

“Yes, but I paid for it.”  
  
“That’s not the same, Swan.”

She turns back to Mary Margaret who’s looking at her with a face full of amusement. “I think he wants to sleep on the couch tonight. I really do, and he hates the couch. Just last night after Henry went to bed we were fooling – ”

“And I’m going upstairs to check to make sure our children have all of their limbs still intact. I don’t need to hear about whatever it is you were just about to say.”  
  
“So immature.”  
  
“You are my little sister. I don’t need to think about what you do with Killian.”

“I can spell it out for you if I need to. It’s really short. Just three letters. Or four depending on how crude you want to get.”  
  
“Going upstairs now,” David says a bit too loudly while his cheeks flush red. He walks away toward the staircase, shaking his head back and forth, and she feels a little rush of pride making him embarrassed, especially since they’ve always had more of a friendly relationship than sibling. He was already out of the house and married when Ruth adopted her, so it’s not like he was around watching her go on dates. He was later, but not when he’s supposed to have been forming all of those protective older brother vibes. “Jones, don’t burn my burgers.”

“I’ll try not to, but I’m awfully distracted by your sister’s buns.”

Laughter rumbles through her stomach while her lips stretch into smile, one that makes her entire face hurt. She both can and can’t believe Killian just said that, and the blush on her cheeks probably matches the blush on David’s. Killian moves his brows across his forehead before winking at her, and it only makes her giggle more.

“I hate the both of you.”

“But I love you, Dave,” Killian calls out, blowing a kiss toward the staircase. “You too, Swan. Just to make that clear. You and your buns are my favorite if I had to pick a member of the family.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. “But I’m glad to know you love me and my ass more than you love my brother.”  
  
“It’s a good ass.”

“You are such a horrible flirt.”  
  
“No, no. I am a wonderful flirt. How else could I make hamburgers and hot dogs dirty and charming?”

“Well, the hot dog jokes are super obvious, just fyi,” she laughs, calming down enough that she can take another sip of her lemonade. “And the buns are too, but I applaud your attempts, babe. Maybe something will come from it later.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. You’ll get to eat – ”

“Okay,” Mary Margaret interrupts them, “you guys can stop with the dirty jokes there. I don’t need to know anymore.”

“I was literally just going to say that he’ll get to eat the food he’s cooking. Where did you – oh my God, Marg, no,” she giggles, reaching up to flip her hair over her shoulder. “I’m not going to say that when you’re standing right there.”

“With the way that you two are, can you blame me for stopping you?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely.”

“It’s like you guys are teenagers,” she sighs, shaking her head back and forth. “I’m going to go see what David and the boys are up to. You guys can continue to flirt out here. Just remember that we have neighbors.”  
  
“I promise that I’ll give them a show.”

Mary Margaret just sighs again, sliding open the door and walking inside, leaving just she and Killian out there. She’s not about to put on whatever show Killian was talking about, but she won’t pass up an opportunity to flirt with her boyfriend when he’s in such a good mood. He’s usually pretty reserved or more clever with his innuendos because of Henry, but when Henry’s not around, well, that’s another story.

Walking over to him, she wraps her arm around his waist and sticks her hand in the back of his pant’s pocket. It’s July, the sun shining down on them hotter than it has all year, but he refuses to wear shorts. He’s got a lot of quirks, but the short thing is definitely on up there, especially because he’ll walk around the house in this awful pair of plaid boxers that seem to keep popping up no matter how many times she hides them.

Maybe she just needs to throw them out, but honestly, he might break up with her if he finds out about that. He really loves those boxers.

Possibly more than he loves her.

“I was lying earlier when I told Mary Margaret I was simply going to say you could eat hamburgers and hot dogs. I say we let Henry run around in the yard a lot and then you and I get a lot of alone time tonight.”  
  
“Aye, I know.”

“What?” She slaps his chest before he starts moving the burgers onto the sheet pan. “How did you know?”

“You flipped your hair behind your shoulders.”  
  
“Right, forgot that you’re weird and know my _supposed_  tells.”  
  
“It’s not weird, sweetheart,” he says as he gets the rest of the burgers off the grill and turns the gas off. “You can do the same to me. It’s what happens when you spend every day talking to the same person.”  
  
“Not sure if that’s a compliment or a complaint.”

Once Killian closes the hood on the grill, he turns toward her and places his hands on her shoulders before brushing his lips over her forehead, her eyes fluttering closed in response. “I think it’s more just being grateful that I get to spend my life with you. I don’t know another woman who would stand out here and let me make innuendos involving food in front of her family.”  
  
“This is true,” she admits, smiling up at him and wishing he didn’t have on sunglasses so she can see the blue in his eyes, even if his sunglasses are kind of hot. “I’m pretty much the cream of the crop, and I deserve to be appreciated every day.”  
  
“And you’re also humble. Can’t forget to appreciate that.”

“Exactly.”

She presses up on her toes to quickly slide her lips over his, just a few short pecks over and over again until she hears the sliding glass door open.

“Daddy,” Henry calls out, “I’m hungry, and Uncle David told me to ask you when we can eat.”

“Right after you wash your hands. Have you done that?”

“Yes.”  
  
“Have you really?”

“No,” Henry admits, hanging his head a little bit.

“Then I suggest that you go wash them, okay?”

“Okay,” Henry nods his head before stepping back inside where she knows he probably will do it simply because Killian told him to. He’s going through a phase where everything Killian tells him is basically gold whereas she’s pretty much useless in getting him to do anything.

“How’d you know he was lying? Does he have a tell too?”

Killian shrugs, moving his hands off of her shoulders and turning to grab the pan of burgers. “He’s a kid, darling. He doesn’t like washing his hands or brushing his teeth. No one needs your superpower to figure that out.”

“My superpower is pretty cool though, right?”

“It’s amazing until I’m trying to surprise you, and I have to pull off a covert mission just to buy you a necklace for our anniversary.”

She reaches up to grab the necklace that’s around her neck, feeling the circular diamond pendant that she wears every day without fail. “I’m glad that you did pull off this particular covert mission.”

“Me too, love. Let’s go eat before your brother thinks that I’m actually burning his burgers.”

“The audacity.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

She shakes off the thoughts of she and Killian and finishes her shower before turning the water off and drying herself before pulling on her robe and wrapping her hair in the towel. Getting ready quickly has pretty much become something she’s an expert in, so she quickly brushes her teeth again in an attempt to get rid of the taste of coffee that’s lingering before she puts her moisturizer on her face, smoothing it into her skin. She looks down at her jewelry tray, the one that stays on her bathroom vanity, and she picks up her necklace and clasps it around her neck, leaving her wedding ring there.

There’s noise on the baby monitor, the beginnings of a wail, and she knows that Ada’s going to cry before she even gets in there. And even though it still breaks her heart every single time her baby is upset, she lets her wail a little bit while pulling on her leggings and pullover, figuring that she’s just going to walk the path at the park anyways. There’s no need for her to put on jeans or anything nice.

It’s still a little weird for her not to be working and not having to get ready in something that’s school appropriate, but she can’t say she hates not having to wear pants with buttons and zippers. After she’s got her shoes on, she finally heads into Ada’s room, feeding her and changing her, making sure she’s got on clothes warm enough for the chill outside, before grabbing her diaper bag and heading downstairs where Neal is already waiting at the door.

“You ready to go?”

“Yep. Just waiting on you.”

The drive to Neal’s therapist’s office is only fifteen minutes, so they don’t talk much. One of the things she’s noticed is that he’s much quieter than he used to be, at least when he’s at home with everyone. When he’s with just her, things are usually a bit more comfortable. She’s not sure if maybe he’s just pissed at Killian or if he’s simply more comfortable being with her. If anything, she figured he’d be pissed at her for moving on. Realistically, she knows that she did nothing wrong, but guilt is a powerful thing. And Neal feeling like he doesn’t have a family…she’s not going to let that happen. She’s going to figure out how to let him be happy with Henry without all of the lingering hostility she can feel when they’re eating dinner or watching television at night.

“So I’ll pick you up around two thirty, and we’ll go pick Henry up, okay?”

Neal nods his head before getting out of the car, giving her a wave and a smile before she’s driving off.

It’s a beautiful fall day out, and the lake at the park glistens under the sunlight while the fallen leaves scatter the concrete path she’s walking with Ada. Right after Ada was born, Emma joined a walking group with several other mom’s, but after about three sessions and thirty judgmental looks for being unmarried, she quit going to them. As much as she’d like to have friends with kids the same age as hers, sometimes it’s just not worth the effort. Or the judgment. And she doesn’t want to be friends with anyone who’s going to judge her anyways.

You just have to do things that bring you joy.

Marie Kondo it.

She literally hoards onto everything, so Marie Kondo probably isn’t the best example for her. She may be more like Hoarders whereas Killian is Marie.

Her phone rings in her pullover pocket, and she grabs it, sliding her fingers across the screen when Killian’s face pops up.

“Hey, babe,” she greets while maneuvering the stroller away from a dip in the pavement.

“Hey, love. How are you? How was this morning? I’m sorry I had to leave early.”  
  
“I mean, I’m fine. This morning was a disaster. I think Ada could sense my fear of doing things alone, so she was a little monster. And Henry was dragging. But we made it. I’m at the park with Ada now so we can get some exercise and fresh air. What about you? You at lunch now?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, clicking his tongue while she hears voices in the background. “It’s been pretty hectic around here. We had some stuff I can’t tell you about happen, and it’s pretty much been an entire day in the conference room. I offered to go out and get lunch simply so I could call and check up on you.”  
  
“That’s sweet, and I’m sorry. I know you hate working in the conference room instead of your office.”  
  
“The blasted chairs alone.”

“Such an old man.” Ada makes a noise, and Emma lifts up the cover to make sure that she’s okay. She is, just playing with her toy, and Emma covers her back up with the shade. “Hey, so I dropped Neal off at his therapy, and I’m going to take him to Henry’s school so he can see a bit more about him. Then I was thinking we’d take him to Freeze Frame down the street. I’m guessing you’re too busy to get off of work and join us?”

“I am, love. I’m sorry.”  
  
“It’s fine,” she promises, trying not to feel sullen about how defeated Killian sounds. “I just thought it’d be nice to ask. We’ll have to go with you on another day. I really doubt Henry will object to more ice cream.”

He chuckles into the speaker, and it’s good to hear that. She wants to hear him laugh, see him smile. She understands that he’s going through a lot right now. She is too. But it’s nice for him to sound normal.

Normal. How many times a day does she think the word normal? She should get it embroidered on a pillow or something.

“Very true. Our boy likes ice cream. Maybe this weekend I’ll take him out to do something. I’ve been trying to let him spend time with Neal, but I do miss us getting to do stuff. So maybe I can get him out and about with me.”  
  
“You know you don’t have to stop doing things with him, right? He can spend time with you both. It doesn’t have to be either or. Just this morning he was asking if you’d be home early enough for you guys to work on the swing set before everything gets too cold.”  
  
Killian mumbles something under his breath that she can’t understand. “Swan, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at home, okay?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, something heavy settling in her stomach, “I’ll see you at home.”

She and Ada walk a few more laps before it’s time for them to go pick up Neal so that they can get Henry. Neal is waiting outside on the front steps of the office when she pulls up, and he hurriedly gets in the car, sliding into the front seat and buckling his seatbelt before he goes back to thumbing through his phone, casually talking to her and asking her about some of the places they pass along the way. She forgets that he doesn’t know Portland, that he’s never been here before, so she’s happy to show him some places to make him feel more at home.

Instead of pulling through the pick-up lane at school, she parks the car and gets out as Neal does the same. Ada’s asleep, which almost always happens after their walks, so Emma undoes her car seat and carries her inside as they make their way into Henry’s school.

“So this is a good place, huh? Neal asks, his eyes following the murals on the side of the building.

“Yeah, it’s really good. Besides Mary Margaret teaching here, one of the big factors for our move was the school district. I think Killian spent weeks investigating and calling all of the administrators. It was a little ridiculous, but it’s worth it now. Henry’s super happy here, and he’s doing great in school.”  
  
“That’s good. I think the schools back in Virginia were pretty good too.”  
  
“Yeah, they were great, but we couldn’t stay on base after...you know. And I really like living here. It’s a nice place. You can live in the suburbs and drive into the city. Plus, there are so many nice beaches under two hours away. We usually go to Boothbay in the summers.”

Neal simply hums next to her. “So you don’t plan on moving back to Virginia? That’d be closer to where I want to work. My options here are pretty limited.”

She stops her walking as the bell to indicate the first wave of students are released from school rings. Ada stirs a bit, but she stays asleep. “What are you talking about? Why would we move? We have a life here.”

“Yeah, but we were supposed to have a life there. We had it all planned out, Ems. Don’t you remember? We were going to get the bigger house with the pool? And Henry was going to go to that private school in DC? I remember us making all of those plans when you were decorating the nursery.”

“Neal,” she sighs, tightly closing her eyes to fight back the tears and the flashes of memories, “of course I remember, but we were a lot younger, me especially, and those were just dreams. And our lives have obviously not gone as planned. I understand that you’re probably trying to cling to the past. I would do the same thing, but you can’t. Isn’t that what Dr. Carter kept telling us at the hospital? That we can’t go back, so we have to try to move forward. We’re not those people anymore. We don’t have that life, so you have to adjust your dreams. Hopefully there’s one out there just as good. Maybe even better. I promise that this is a really good school, a really good place.”

He smiles, just a small twitch of his lips that makes his entire face crinkle, but he doesn’t say anything else, walking up the path to where there’s now hundreds of kids leaving the school. A shiver runs down her spine as a gust of wind blows by, but she shakes it off and catches up with Neal so she can show him where Henry’s pick-up line is.

“Momma,” Henry shouts, tugging at Mary Margaret’s cardigan until she looks up and makes eye contact with Emma.

“You can go,” Mary Margaret tells him, and he’s quickly making his way over to she and Neal, wrapping his arms around her waist first.

“Hey, kid,” she sighs, kissing the top of his head. “Why don’t you talk to your dad about your day for a bit while I talk to Mary Margaret?”

“Okay,” he sighs, pulling back from her before he’s turning to Neal and chatting almost as quickly as he can. She’s glad that he’s gotten a lot of his pep back. He was far too quiet when everything happened at first, and that absolutely flooded her with worry. She’s pretty sure he was just reflecting how she and Killian were, and that was not okay with her. She can’t let all of the conflict and confusion get to him.

“Hey, Marg,” she greets when she gets to her, placing Ada’s carrier on the ground and taking her out of it now that she’s woken up. “How are you?”

“Tired,” she complains, checking off two more kids to go home. “The VP observed class today, and he watched mine just after lunch.”  
  
“So when they’re the worst?”

“Exactly. I thought I was going to – ”

“Mrs. Nolan, my grandma is here.”  
  
“Okay Amanda, you can go. Don’t forget your science project tomorrow.”  
  
“I won’t.”

“She will,” Mary Margaret sighs, reaching over and squeezing Ada’s arm. “God, I miss when Leo was this tiny. I mean, I get so much more sleep now, but there’s nothing like those baby stages.”

“For someone who’s exhausted, you’re asking for more exhaustion.”  
  
She laughs. “I’m too old to have more kids, but I can admire my precious niece.” Mary Margaret’s eyes dart away from her students and turn toward where Henry and Neal are. “So how’s that going? I need to come over and talk one day because I feel like David and I haven’t helped nearly enough, especially after that first day.”

“The first day was the worst, but it’s gotten better. Things are still hard, obviously, but they’re getting better, I think. Neal’s pretty quiet. Killian is even quieter. I honestly think they’ve got some kind of macho man contest going on, and it’s driving me insane.”  
  
“So they’re both feeling territorial?”  
  
“I think so, and I get it, but I also don’t get it, you know? Yeah, things are messed up, but I’m my own person and neither of them have rights to me. It’s taken me a minute to understand that, because I’ve always felt some kind of obligation to Neal, but – ”

“Well don’t you?”  
  
“Don’t I what?”

“Have an obligation to him? He’s your husband. You made a commitment to him.”

She tries to keep the anger bubbling under her skin to a minimum. She really does. They’re around kids, and this was supposed to be a quick conversation while Mary Margaret is doing drop off, and she’s still got Ada in her arms.

“Marg, I love you. I really do, but you and David are entirely different than any relationship I’ve ever had. Yes, I made a commitment to Neal once upon a time, but that doesn’t mean I owe him anything, even if I’ve felt that way before. I just…I just want him to get to know Henry and to be happy in this second chance at life that he’s getting. That’s all I want.”

She also signed those papers, which she still hasn’t told Neal about. Honestly, she needs to meet with a lawyer at some point and get her shit figured out. And tell Neal they’re not married anymore. That should…she should probably do that.

She really doesn’t want to do that.

“So you don’t – ”

“No. I think I may break his heart, but I’ll always be here for him, you know? To help him get his life back, to make up for the time he’s lost. There’s so much that’s happened, none of it that’s his fault, but I can’t snap back to how things were. I don’t want to. I think I’m just trying to hold everything together and make sure Henry isn’t overwhelmed. He’s still doing okay in school?”

“Yeah, he’s great, hon,” Mary Margaret promises, reaching over and squeezing Emma’s shoulder. “He’s waving to you now. I think it might be time to go.”  
  
“Yeah,” she sighs, reaching down and picking up Ada’s carrier while balancing Ada in her arms, “it is. I’ll talk to you later.”

She walks back over to Neal and Henry, plastering a smile on her face and tugging Henry to her side. “Dad says we’re going to get ice cream. Is that true?”

“Yep! We’ve got to show him the magic of Freeze Frame.”  
  
“They have sixty flavors,” Henry excitedly begins, walking toward the car, “and you can mix them. Plus they have toppings, but daddy says we can only have three toppings when we go because however much your ice cream weighs is how much it costs.”

“Tell you what, buddy, you can have as many toppings as you want. My treat.”

 

* * *

 

“Yeah, and on my fifth birthday, I had a lego cake. It was super cool, and there was a Batman on top.”

“Really? Was he made of legos too?”

“He was made of icing.” Henry takes a large spoonful of his birthday cake ice cream with far more sprinkles than any child should ever have, which is how they got onto the topic of Henry’s birthdays. “It was so cool.”

“I bet,” Neal tells him while he takes a bite of his own ice cream. “I have something else that I bet that you’ll think is cool.”

“Yeah?” Henry’s eyes light up, and she scoops up some of her remaining mango. She always claims they can’t come here much because Henry will lose his mind, but really she’s starting to think that it’s because she’ll eat it all. At least she doesn’t like sprinkles though. They’re pretty but so gross.

“Yeah. It’s super cool. I got a call today asking if I wanted to be on TV, and I told them yes. They’re going to come to our house, and you can be on TV too.”

She chokes on her ice cream, having to force the melted liquid down her throat, which only makes it worse. What the hell? Did he just say that he invited interviewers to the house? And that Henry will be on it too? They already have enough people calling and asking to talk over the phone as well as people waiting outside the house some mornings. This is the absolute last thing they need.

And he didn’t even ask. She thought he’d have the common courtesy to at least talk to she and Killian about this, but Neal has always just done things his own way. He likes to take charge. But he can’t do this. She won’t let him do this. She always let him lead in the past, but if they’re going to do this whole co-parenting thing, he has to learn how to ask. She’s not twenty-one and an unfortunate pushover anymore.

“Really? I’m going to be on TV?”

“Yeah! Isn’t that exciting?”

“Neal,” she says softly, adjusting Ada in her lap so she can’t grab Emma’s cup and dump ice cream everywhere, “we need to talk about this.”

“Oh come on, Ems, it’ll be great. They’re paying me. Said that they wanted to do a profile on how I’m adjusting back into life with my family. I figured you, me, and Henry could do it. I think it’ll be nice.”

God, he looks so excited, but she…she can’t do that. She doesn’t want her life on display, not after how it has been recently. Everywhere she goes she just gets all of these…looks.  
  
“If you want to do interviews, you can, but you can’t commit Henry to anything without asking me first. And you can’t commit me to things either.”

“But I want to do it, Mom!” Henry insists, looking over at her with his eyes wide and pleading.

It’s exactly why she and Killian don’t tell Henry anything without talking about things first. And she knows that Neal is learning, that he’s really only been a dad for two weeks, but she kind of feels like this is common sense. Maybe it is or maybe she’s just been a mom for nearly a decade and knows these things.

She’s still pissed though, especially because now she’s either going to have to do the damn interview or tell Henry that he can’t, which she already knows isn’t going to go over well.

Fuck.

“Kid,” she sighs, closing her eyes for a second to give herself some composure, “I’m not saying yes. I have to think about it. We have to talk to Daddy. I know it’s exciting to be on TV, but you have to wait and see.”  
  
“But Mom,” he whines, his bottom lip jutting out, “I want to.”

“I know, but this is a grown-up decision. Why don’t you finish your ice cream before it melts?”

“Fine,” Henry grumbles, stuffing his already melting ice cream in his mouth while she stirs hers around, her appetite for the melted mango gone.

She really does not like breaking her kid’s heart, and she knows that this whole adjustment period is going to take some more…adjusting. It’s just going to take time is all. They all simply need time.

Everything will be fine.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time, you guys. Things simply need time :D


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's time for everyone's favorite story that you guys never get mad at me for...lol. :D
> 
> As always, double line breaks around a flashback!

He wakes to a warm body wrapped around his.

A warm body and ice cold feet.

Emma.

When his eyes open, he can see her arms wrapped around his middle, the mess of her golden hair spread out over his body and down her back. He can see a few tangles in it from her not brushing it out before bed last night, and if he didn’t know that it would wake her up, he’d run his fingers through her hair to help untangle them. She really needs a brush, but he can usually accomplish a lot with his fingers.

In more ways than one.

That is absolutely the last thing he should be thinking about, even with Emma’s leg pressing down on his thigh, right near his groin. He’s got…on any other morning he’d nudge her awake, gently trail his fingers down her back like she enjoys and softly brush his lips across her face. When it comes to Emma, even though she can enjoy the roughness of love making on occasion, in the mornings, she needs gentle. She needs to be woken softly, whispered words in her ear and gentle pushes on her shoulders instead of blaring alarms and screaming children.

He knows that it’s been awhile since she’s been able to wake up like that. Ada had just started sleeping through the night when their world was flipped upside down.

It’s why he can’t move now. He can’t wake her. He doesn’t know the last time she got a full night’s sleep. She’s been restless, tossing and turning for most of the night, and when she’s not in bed, he knows she’s in Ada’s room pacing back and forth or sitting in the rocking chair while scrolling through her phone, gently singing to their little girl. He feels her get out of bed every time, the mattress lifting the slightest bit before the door squeaks open. He’s always a second too late to call out to her, but the alert goes off on his phone that there’s movement in the nursery and he can see Emma moving around even if Ada’s fast asleep.

He’s at a loss for words for what to do, for how to help. He knows that she thinks that’s he’s been closed off to her lately, and he has been, but she’s doing the exact same thing. He’d bet she doesn’t realize she’s doing it too. She’s not talking to him when he tries to talk to her. It’s almost like she’s cutting him off before he can do that to her. Actually, he knows that’s what she’s doing. He knows Emma, he knows how she works, and he knows that they haven’t been them for the past seven weeks.

There are glimpses of normalcy, moments where they’re laughing in the living room, his stomach hurting from the consistent movement, or when they’re reading to Ada either in the mornings or at night. Sometimes even when they’re trying to get Henry to do his homework or to comb his hair for school. That’s normal to him. That’s been his life for years, and even when he feels like pulling his hair out, that’s what he loves.

That’s who he loves.

But things will likely never go back to normal for them, and they’re going to have to create a new normal. And while he’s not necessarily happy about it for himself, he is for everyone else.

He’d be a horrible human being if he wasn’t.

And it’s why he lets Emma sleep even if she’s making his arm fall asleep, the sharp pinpricks moving across his skin. He’s uncomfortable, but she isn’t. That’s what’s important to him anyways.

Gently, he reaches over for his phone on the bedside table, turning off the alarm for seven he has on Saturdays and thumbing through his messages. They’d been up late last night trying to explain to Neal one final time why they weren’t okay having Henry on TV for the interview today, and he hadn’t gotten a chance to reply to any of his messages. They’d talked about it nearly every night since Neal apparently told Henry he could be on TV when Emma had taken them out to ice cream last week, and after they made the final decision, obviously Henry had been furious at he and Emma.

Frankly, it fucking sucked, but being a parent isn’t always fun. You have to break your kid’s heart a lot, but it’s because you’re trying to do what’s best for them.

Trying being the key word. Most of the time he has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. A lot of the time it’s more terrifying with Henry because he’s older, he understands more, and he does have such a wide range of emotions already that it’s difficult to know how to nurture him the best way. Ada, despite the fact that she takes up far more of their time just by nature of being a baby, well, she’s much easier. She’s terrifying and small and he’s constantly worried about her wiggling out of his arms and falling to the floor, but they’re not currently having to teach her all of the rights and wrongs of the world as well as the fact that sometimes things are neither right nor wrong. Instead they’re in a gray area, and they have to make a judgmental call.

A hell of a lot of times, his judgment calls are not the best.

Right now parenting Henry is the hardest, if only because he now leads a life that’s complicated even for Killian and Emma to understand. A lot of kids grow up with a father and a step-father. He did, and he hated it. Mostly, though, he hated that his dad left and his step-father was an undeniable asshole to his mum before she died, but not every family is like that. He knows several that are great that way, better even than before, but none of them have ever been quite in the same scenario as they are.

There’s not exactly a support group for how to handle someone coming back from the dead.

He’s trying to make sure Henry isn’t screwed up for life because of this, trying to make it a good thing because it is a good thing. It’s simply difficult to try to balance the suddenness of a new (old) family member.

And as awful as it is, he’s simply thankful that his baby girl is never going to remember any of this. She won’t have to go through all of these changes with them. She’ll simply be.

_Liam: Emailed you the plans for Christmas. Belle suggested we come see you guys this year instead of you all coming to see us._

_Liam: Figured we’d stay in a hotel, though, since the guest room is taken._

_Liam: How are things?_

He pulls up his email, deleting the junk until he sees where Liam sent him a provisionary itinerary. His brother is the only man he knows who makes plans to make plans. Seriously, why the hell does he have suggested plane routes and dates as well as possible hotels in here? He could have just told Killian they were coming and booked the flights. And they could always spend the night on the pullout couch in his study, but he’s sure they’d rather have a private room and a comfortable bed if they’re staying for a week.

_Killian: Yeah, it’s best that you guys come to us. I don’t think we’d make the flight with everything, especially not knowing how Ada will do on the plane. Hopefully we get back to London in the summer._

_Killian: Things are okay. Not great, not awful. It’s definitely not the best time of my life, but I’m trying._

_Killian: I wish you were here. I need someone to talk to in person, and Rob can only listen for so long before he drowns me out._

_Liam: So when you say things are okay, you mean they’re not good?_

_Killian: Aye._

_Liam: Have you talked to Emma?_

_Killian: She’s a little preoccupied with things._

_Liam: Please tell me she hasn’t gone back to that bastard. I will fly to you guys right now if she has._

_Killian: That’s her husband. Sort of. Technically ex. I’ve got no bloody clue anymore._

_Liam: Please, you are more a husband to her than he ever was._

_Killian: That’s also one of my best mates._

_Liam: I know you think that, but he’s always been an asshole. Happy he’s alive and everything for your boy, but I never understood what the two of you saw in him._

_Killian: Well, I’m thinking Emma and I didn’t see the same things._

_Liam: At least you can joke about it._

He’s about to text Liam back that all he can really do to help him cope with things is make awful jokes about it all, but then Emma’s stirring on top of him, and he feels her lips press against his collarbone. His eyes immediately shut, the pleasure that spot brings to him immediately making his cock twitch, and it’s not long before she’s trailing her lips up his neck while her body moves further over his.

“Good morning,” she whispers against his jaw before pushing herself up and brushing her lips against the corner of his.

He shouldn’t tilt his head to move his lips completely over hers, but he does, capturing Emma’s mouth with his and hearing her make the smallest noise, something between a gasp and a moan. It’s exactly what has him rolling them over so that he’s caging her in while his hips press down on hers and his mouth expertly moves over hers so that he can feel the soft warmth of her lips and continuously make those sounds of hers escape her.

It’s been far too long since they’ve done this, far too long since he allowed himself to do this, and he’s somehow forgotten how intoxicating Emma is. How could he have forgotten? He should have never forgotten. She moves against him in a way that she knows he enjoys, just as he does with her. There’s a certain comfort in being with someone for so long, in knowing that they like having their upper lip teased, in knowing that they have a particularly sensitive spot just below the ear that makes them elicit every curse word known to man in what has to be the most sensual and attractive whisper that he’s ever heard, and in knowing that while you know exactly how to please each other, you can also make each other laugh in the middle of it all.

Emma’s hands move across his shoulders until they’re tracing down his back and finding their way under his shirt. Her skin is warm against his, almost like it’s burning, and as her nails trace his spine, moving closer to his ass, he has to take a moment to stop his lips from the way they’re gliding over Emma’s just so he can try to catch his breath.

He feels Emma nudge him, and he flips over onto his back, a pillow falling to the floor with the movement, but that’s absolutely the last thing on his mind as he watches Emma take off her t-shirt, the skin on her stomach and her breasts exposed to him. She’s so bloody beautiful, gorgeous really, and he can’t stop looking at her, running his tongue over his bottom lip while she tucks her hair behind her ears and flips it over her shoulders.

“You’re stunning, love,” he whispers, knowing that his voice is hoarse, that his words come out broken.

Blush rises to Emma’s cheeks as she straddles his lap, sitting right where he’s absolutely straining for her. “Thank you. I’m still worried about my stomach but – ”

“Hey,” he sighs, reaching up and cupping her cheek with one hand, bringing her down so he can softly brush his lips over hers while his thumb ghosts over a nipple, feeling it hardening the slightest bit, “that is not something you ever have to worry about, yeah? You have brought life into this world, twice, and I will never not think you are the most beautiful woman in the world.”

She nods before dipping her head and trailing her lips across his jaw, and he flips them over again, laughing at Emma’s squeal as he takes his shirt off so his skin can be connected to hers. It’s glorious feeling as her breasts brush against the hair on his chest, and he never wants it to stop, not when he’s so desperately clinging to her.

So it’s pretty much no surprise when their bedroom door swings open, and he immediately has to cover their bodies with the comforter, quickly handing Emma his shirt so she can put it on while under the covers.

“What are you guys doing?” Henry asks them, his hair sticking up in several directions as he stands in the doorway, still clad in his Ninja Turtle pajamas.

“Cuddling, buddy,” he lies, lifting the comforter and his body a bit so Emma can more easily get his shirt on, her curses only reaching his ears. “What are you doing awake?”

“I’m hungry.”  
  
“Fix yourself some cereal, kid,” Emma tells him, casually sitting up in bed and pulling her hair up, which hides the mussed hair but exposes the beard burn on her chin. “And what happened to knocking? Aren’t we supposed to be working on that?”

“Yeah, but it’s Saturday. We always have big breakfast on Saturday, and I’m hungry.”  
  
“This is true, love,” he tells Emma, taking several deep breaths to try to calm himself down. He’s going to need to take a cold shower to do that. His entire body is humming. “Henry, why don’t you go downstairs and watch some TV? I’m going to take a quick shower, and then I’ll come down and cook, okay?”

“Okay,” Henry grumbles, immediately turning around and walking out the door, slamming it closed.

“He’s in a mood,” Emma laughs, turning to him and moving to kiss him, her hand reaching down to grab his length from under his pajama pants, causing him to hiss in both pleasure and frustration at the heat of her touch on the hardness of his skin.

“W-what are you doing?”

“You’ve got to get the flag at full staff before you can salute it,” she teases, doubling her efforts, and he almost succumbs to her touch, but he can’t.

He knows that he could kiss her again, that he should kiss her again and let them fall into ecstasy like they have so many times before, but seeing Henry reminded him of Neal…and he just…he can’t. The guilt has been consuming him lately, and he simply can’t. Not right now.

He’s in love with a woman who should be in love with someone else, who should have never fallen in love with him in the first place, and it’s absolutely killing him.

 

* * *

* * *

 

“K-Killian, stop,” she giggles, twisting and turning in bed while he moves his fingers against her stomach. “You’re so dumb. Why do you do this?”

“Because you hate it.”

“Yeah – yes, I do. It’s literally the worst.” She turns on the bed, flopping her arms out over the mattress as she moves further away from him. “And you are far too old to be doing that.”  
  
“I am youthful,” he corrects, twisting on his side and wrapping his arms around his pillow. “I’ve got to be to keep up with you and Henry.”

“Oh God, I feel like I could be twenty-one and not be able to keep up with him.”

“Because you’re so much older than twenty-one.”

“I’m closer to thirty than to twenty-one.”  
  
He rolls his eyes. She’s twenty-seven. She’s not old, but she’s right. Henry is absolutely wild lately with how much energy he has. He wishes that he could bottle some of it up and keep it for himself. It would be like bottling magic.

“Hmm,” he hums, leaning over to Emma and wrapping his arm around her waist so that he can tug her back toward him, feeling the litheness of her body near him driving him mad over and over again, “I’m going to ignore you complaining about your old age and just choose to enjoy this moment with my old woman.”  
  
“I am not afraid to hurt you.”

“I know, but you’re not going to.”  
  
“Try me.”

He has a retort on his tongue, something he knows will piss her off, but he chooses not to say it, dipping his head and quickly brushing his lips over hers until neither of them can breathe. He loves her so much, loves the way her lips feel against his, loves the way her body moves with his, but he mostly just loves her and the way they get on. It’s never been like this with anyone, and even though sometimes they argue over the dumbest things, sometimes not talking for the rest of the day unless they’re with Henry, he wouldn’t change anything about their lives.

He might like to change the fact that they’re staying in his small apartment until they decide on where to move, but other than that, he wouldn’t change anything right now.

The boxes everywhere might be driving him a bit crazy, but he knew asking Emma and Henry to move in with him would mean that his apartment would never be neat again. He doesn’t mind. Really, he likes the changes. He likes that his refrigerator is covered in pictures that Henry draws him at daycare. He likes the fact that there are colorful toys scattered all across his living room that seem to multiply whenever he picks one up. He likes the fact that on his book shelf, next to all of the Naval history and strategy books, there are Emma’s trashy romance novels that she stuffs in the back and Henry’s colorful children’s books that they get to read every day.

Mostly he likes that he wakes up with blonde hair in his face every morning and then a little later on, he gets to eat breakfast with the little lad that means the absolute world to him. There’s nothing quite like Henry getting excited over something small like Killian making his food look like it’s smiling.

“I am not going to try you because I know you can kick my ass if you really want to.”

“This is true, as we’ve established. What time is it?”

“Early. We could probably go back to sleep.”

“Or we could wait for Henry to wake up and let him cuddle with us while we watch Bubble Guppies.”

“Swan,” he gasps, throwing his hand over his heart, “Bubble Guppies in bed before eight in the morning. How scandalous.”

“Shut up.” She rolls over in bed until she’s standing on the hardwood floor, rummaging through the boxes until she finds a sweater and pulls it over her shoulders. “It is Saturday morning, and I have had my time with you. I want time with my baby.”

“Am I not your baby? Because that’s not what you were saying last night. Or this morning.”

“Oh my God,” she groans, climbing back up on the mattress and straddling his lap over the comforter while her hands cup his face, “you are so ridiculous, and I honestly think that you got into some of Henry’s sugary cereal with how cheeky you are this morning.”

“You said I can’t throw it away, so how else am I going to get rid of it, Swan?”

“If he didn’t love you so much and wasn’t four, I’m pretty sure he would riot knowing you took his cereal.”

He reaches up and tucks her hair behind her ears, letting him see her eyes and the way amusement dances in them as her lips press together in a smile. “I would never eat his cereal. Henry may riot, but as we’ve established, his mum would kick my ass.”

“Exactly.” She slants her lips over his in a long, lingering kiss. “I love you, _baby_ ,” she drawls out, smattering kisses all over his face, “but I’m going to go check on my actual baby and bring him back in here. So go ahead and find the show.”

“Aye, will do, Captain.”

Emma practically jogs out of the room. While she’s gone, he laughs to himself, running his hand through his hair and over his beard until he’s getting out of bed and putting on some clothes for when Henry comes in. He’s probably already awake in his room which is still pretty much Killian’s study, usually waking up much earlier than he should, so he’s sure that Emma is trying to wrangle him into using the bathroom and brushing his teeth. He does the same, brushing his teeth while he tries to find Bubble Guppies on TV in hopes that he won’t have to find the DVD for it. Luckily, there’s a marathon of it on, and he lets the sounds fill the bedroom as he goes about his morning routine.

“Killy,” Henry shouts, bursting in the door with Emma trailing just behind him.

“Hey, buddy,” he laughs, leaning down and scooping Henry off of the ground and throwing him over his shoulder. He absolutely loves it every time Killian does it, especially because he can get him up higher than Emma can. “You want to do the airplane in a minute?”

“Yesss,” Henry giggles, squirming in his arms until Killian puts him down on the bed. He’s already jumping a bit on the mattress, his small legs giving him far too much momentum, and before Killian can even settle himself down onto the bed and get situated, Henry is jumping on him, his elbows jamming into Killian’s side. It takes everything in him not to mutter a curse with the pain. “Sorry,” Henry says bashfully, already backing up to where Emma is crawling under the covers.

“It’s okay,” he promises, laying down flat on his back. “But we have to remember to be patient, yeah? We don’t want to get hurt.”

Henry nods his head before Killian bends his legs and gets his feet situated. He’s getting too old to do this, even if he said he was youthful, but his limbs are a bit sore right now. He offered though, so he’s going to give Henry his plane ride. He settles onto Killian’s feet, and the moment he’s settled, Killian starts moving, making all of the right noises as Henry giggles and Emma adds in her own commentary. They’ve learned that Henry likes to make crash landings for the hell of it, so he makes sure he never goes to high, that Henry will always fall on the mattress, and sure enough, Henry keeps rolling over and dropping to the bed until his mum picks him up and puts him back on Killian’s feet.

When they’re finally finished, his thighs screaming at him, Henry settles down in between he and Emma so that he can finally watch TV. It’s much more peaceful this way, just the three of them getting caught up in the show while Henry asks them questions, trying to articulate things for words he doesn’t know yet, and then adding his own little adventures into the plot. Henry climbs over into his mother’s lap, something he usually do when they’re sitting together, and Killian wraps his arm around Emma’s shoulder, tugging her closer while his fingers toy with her hair.

He feels her lips brush against his cheek before she goes back to talking to Henry, and he’s honestly not sure if he’s ever felt this content.

 

* * *

* * *

  

“This is pretty cool, huh?” Neal asks him, nudging his shoulder into his as the news crew sets up their cameras and tries to find the right lighting while the two of them are finishing eating breakfast. Henry had been so relieved when he finally stumbled downstairs and started making his pancakes. He’s pretty sure that the lad would have eaten the batter if he could have. He’s outside with Emma now though, his stomach full of food. She’d taken him out when he kept getting caught distracting the men and women carrying equipment inside.

“Yeah, it is,” he admits even if he’s still a little annoyed over having strangers try to rearrange his carefully arranged living room. But if this is what Neal wants to do, he should do it. They haven’t exactly gotten a lot of time together with just the two of them, and it’s pretty much because Killian has been avoiding him. He’s pissed beyond belief at how Neal reacted to the news of he and Emma even though it’s almost been a month since then. He knew it would be difficult, but he didn’t expect any of that. He’s finding it hard to look at Neal with affection instead of annoyance, but he’s decided that his goal now is to find the friendship they once had despite everything. There’s really no reason why they shouldn’t be friends even with all of the complications. “You’re doing so well, and if this is what you want to do, I’m glad that you’re getting to do it.”  
  
“I mean, it’s weird. I never thought I’d be on TV, but I feel like it might help other people, you know? All of those coming home from war or whatever. Or even those being deployed. It shows that there’s hope even when things seem hopeless.”  
  
“Yeah,” Killian sighs, cringing a bit when one of the men tries to move the glass coffee table on his own, “it does. I’m sure it’ll help a lot of people. I hope it helps you to process things too. I know it took me a long time to fully feel at home again, and I was deployed for far less time.”

“Well, you always have been one who doesn’t like change. Remember when we were moving you out of that shitty apartment in DC, and you absolutely refused to get rid of the futon?”

“It was a good futon!”  
  
“It was a piece of junk, Jones. You just don’t like change. It’s why you’re still drinking rum.”  
  
“Yeah, well, it’s better than the disgusting whiskey you like. And you always liked the worst beers too.”  
  
“I liked what was cheap,” Neal laughs, his fingers adjusting the buttons on his uniform. “We’ll have to go out one night and get some of the good stuff.”

“I’d like that,” Killian answers honestly even if he hasn’t had much of a real desire to spend time with Neal alone. He should, he really should, but he doesn’t even know what they’d talk about now. He has to make the effort though. That’s his goal. They’re going to be friends again, get back to normal. That’s the word Emma keeps using. Normal. It’s what he keeps using too. “We’ll have to find a night, but I can show you this bar David and I go to sometimes when Emma and Mary Margaret want us out of the house. It’s a hole in the wall, but I kind of love it.”

“Alright, Sergeant Cassidy,” George Johansson begins, coming over to the table where he and Neal are sitting, “I’m ready to start as soon as you get your mic on.”  
  
“Perfect.” Neal nods his head before clapping his hand on Killian’s shoulder. “Can you go get Emma and Henry from outside? I know they’re not going to be in it, but I’d at least like for them to watch.”

“Of course.” He rises from his chair, straightening out his sweater and picking up the plates from the table and placing them in the sink before he makes his way outside.

Henry’s swinging on the swing set that he finally put together a few days ago. It’d been at two in the morning, but he’d finally gotten it put together enough so that he could have Henry help him put in the finishing touches. Emma’s sitting in the swing next to Henry, barely moving while she cradles a bundled-up Ada. Ada’s got on this little knitted hat with two fluff balls on top, and he’s weirdly obsessed with how it looks. Something about it makes him smile. It’s probably because of it reminds him so much of a beanie that Emma owns and is always wearing when it starts getting chilled outside.

“Neal’s about to start filming,” he says as he walks off the back porch and down the stairs toward them. “He said he wants you two to watch.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, buddy. He does.”

Henry digs his heels into the ground, kicking up some dirt, before getting up and running inside with all of the speed that he can muster. Emma gets up more slowly, almost hesitantly, before walking over to him and past him, a timid smile stretched across her lips while she heads inside too. He follows and hopes to everything that this interview goes well so that they can get the media out of their home for good.

 

* * *

 

“So, oftentimes,” George begins, speaking to Neal while he, Emma, Henry, and Ada sit in the corner of the room on their misplaced couch, “when our brave men and women come home from war as heroes like yourself, their lives are different than when they left. Usually it’s small changes, but for you, they’ve been rather big.”

“Well, Instagram certainly wasn’t a thing before I left. And there weren’t quite so many frozen yogurt shops everywhere,” Neal laughs, his entire face lighting up with genuine amusement. “Also, can I talk about Netflix? It was around, but you had to rent the DVDs. God, that was awful compared to now.”

George chuckles, and Killian does too while Henry whispers about wanting to watch Netflix later. All of that is so true, particularly the frozen yogurt thing. He swears there really is a shop on every corner. “Well, yes, those are certainly differences, but I was thinking more about the fact that your son, who was less than a month old when you were deployed, is now eight years old and a thriving third grader? How is that?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Emma nudge Henry, a kind smile on her face that is far outshone by the one on Henry’s. He looks absolutely thrilled to mentioned by his father on TV. It’s probably an eight-year-old’s dream if he’s not allowed to be on TV himself.

“It’s certainly weird, if I’m honest. I only got to see my son a few times. I wasn’t even there when he was born because I was out of town for training, which was just horrible timing, but in the times I did see him, just…wow. I was so in love with that baby. And for a long time, I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. I used to imagine how he’d grow up, what he’d look like. Would he have my hair? Emma’s? I already knew he’d have my nose just from the beginning, but everything was such a mystery. And while I hate that I missed so much, that my wife had to raise him by herself, I’m just glad that I’m back now.”

“Speaking of your wife, we can’t imagine how she must feel about all of this.”

“Happy, I hope,” Neal laughs, flashing the camera his brightest smile again while Killian’s stomach rolls. Emma still hasn’t told him they’re not technically married anymore, and he’s not sure that Emma is ever going to tell him with the way she continually backs out of it. He doesn’t blame her. She’s already had to tell him so many awful things, and neither of them deserve to have to go through more. It’s got to happen at some point though just so everything can be out in the open. “She seems happy, at least. I think she’s probably a little sad I have some gray in me now, though. That wasn’t there before.”

“You’d think so, but I do have to ask you about something,” George continues while Neal crosses his legs and uncrosses them, seemingly unable to get comfortable. “Your family has always been private, has never been in the spotlight before, so it’s only since your homecoming that we’ve learned that your wife just had a baby with someone else. With one of your closest friends, actually if our research is any indication. How much of a shock was it to learn about that? You come home America’s hero, and your home is totally changed which is something much more common than most people realize.”

His stomach rolls again, the heavy lead that’s been present several times in the last two months making an appearance again. They keep getting hit out of left field by things they’re not expecting. His eyes find Emma’s, and even though she’s been so good at keeping this together lately, he can see her hands shaking, all of the guilt as obvious in her body as he’s ever seen it.

“Love,” he whispers, trying to contain himself from pulling the plug on the interview for this fucking question, “please take Henry and go into the other room. She nods her head, but they can’t move before Neal starts speaking.

“Yeah,” Neal sighs, leaning back into the chair and crossing his leg one more time, “that was a bit rough for me. Even though you should imagine that life goes on without you, it’s a bit of a difficult thing to find out that it’s _exactly_  what happens. I guess I had this hope that I could come home to what I remembered, but honestly, I’m just glad to be home at all. Emma is the love of my life without any doubt, and all I want is for her to be happy. I don’t think it would be right to try to blame her or shame her for moving on and finding happiness. I was dead for all that she knew, and I’m happy that she found someone to love her and to be there for her.”

“So you don’t have any comment on your marriage?”

“I think right now my focus and Emma’s focus have been on helping me readjust to life and our new normal. She’s been doing a lot to help me get to know my son, and that’s been the most important thing to me. I’m finally getting to be with my family again. It makes coming home all the much sweeter.”

He can’t look away from Emma’s face, can’t look away from the way large tears are rolling down her cheeks while she holds Ada into her chest, and he can’t look away from how absolutely distraught she looks right now. How can he have been so selfish to try to hold onto Emma, to try to act like his family is the one that’s been torn apart when he’s been the one who is tearing a family apart as well? He’s been terrified of losing her, and he’s not even sure he has any right to feeling that way when she has the chance to have her family again.

He can’t do this right now.

He can’t.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I have a plan. I promise.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m just going to apologize for this chapter. I am bracing myself for the yelling, but, really, when you think about it, this has been coming. And it’ll also get us where we need to go. Remember that happy ending thing, right? I promise that always!
> 
> Double line breaks around the flashback.

Emma moves her hands in front of her face before pulling them away and opening her lips into a smile while she gasps. Ada immediately giggles, and claps her hands together, her sign that she wants Emma to do it again. So she does. “Peek-a-boo,” she giggles, continuously moving her hands back and forth while Ada’s eyes scrunch up and her dimples show. She gets those from Killian. Most of her face has really started to look like Killian in the past week, but her coloring is all Emma. Genetics can be so fickle and weird.

“Peek-a-boo,” she repeats as the sound of the running water stops, Killian obviously finishing his shower. He’s usually pretty quick, but he’s been in there for much longer than usual even without the music he sometimes plays. “Yeah, here’s Momma. Momma’s right here, Ada bug. See, she’s not going anywhere.”

Ada coos in between her giggles before she decides to lay down on her back and bring her feet to her mouth, which she prefers over literally every toy she and Killian have bought. It figures. How can you get better than feet?

Okay, so that makes it sound like she has a foot fetish when really, she’s just talking about how weird babies are.

Emma moves to lay down on her stomach on the carpet, straightening out Ada’s play rug and gently moving Ada onto her stomach as well. If they can get tummy time out of the way now, she won’t have to deal with it later. Ada is so close to rolling over on her own. She just needs a little more time to get it. She’s six months old as of three days ago, and Emma had absolutely sobbed after Killian had left for work and taken Henry to school.

Sobbed.

She had been miserable, not wanting to accept that her baby was that old, and she’d let herself cry over it for a few minutes until she felt so exhausted that she simply couldn’t cry anymore. She had no idea why it affected her so much, why it’s still affecting her. She remembers being sad when Henry had turned six months, but it was an entirely different kind of sadness over realizing that her baby was going to grow up without a father and she’d be facing all of these milestones alone. Now she’s sad that time seems to be passing by so quickly.

And soon her baby won’t be a baby anymore, Henry will be a teenager, and then he’ll be moving out of the house and getting married.

Wow, okay. She’s got to cool down her thoughts before she does something crazy like spiral. The past few months of her life have pretty much been a constant struggle to keep herself from spiraling.

After she’s got Ada all situated on her mat, putting toys around her to make sure she can attempt to reach them, she hears the bathroom door open and Killian walks out with just his boxers on as he tilts his head to the side and dries his hair with a towel. It’s…it’s a sight she’s seen nearly every single day for years, but it always takes her breath away. He always takes her breath away in so many ways, but honestly, right now, she’s especially thankful for the way he still finds time to sometimes run on his lunch breaks or early in the mornings before work.

She’d feel the same way about him if he just sat on his ass during his lunch breaks, but she’s not blind. She can appreciate the lean muscles of his body and the way dark hair is spread out over his chest and down his flat stomach. She can also appreciate the way his boxer briefs cling to his thighs and his cock, the hair on his stomach disappearing into the material of the glorious briefs. She can just appreciate him.

Okay, so maybe they haven’t slept together in awhile, and she’s feeling… _frustrated_.

Or maybe she’s really fucking horny. She’s not even a fan of the word horny, thinks it’s too much like what her immature teenagers at school say, but that’s pretty much how she’s been feeling lately. She needs to have sex. That’s what it boils down to.

“What are you staring at, love?”

“Huh?” she asks, shaking her head and running her tongue over her bottom lip while she flips her hair over her shoulder, thinking herself down because now is not the time. Now could totally be the time. “I wasn’t staring at anything.”  
  
“You are such a horrible liar. I literally don’t know how you keep anything a secret. Sometimes you’re awful.”

“Honestly, I was just thinking about how unbelievably horny I am, and how I was kind of hoping that we could have some time to ourselves tonight.”

The smile that was on his face fades away, morphing into that neutral smile she’s been seeing so much of in the past two months, and something inside of her stomach twists. Killian’s been acting so strange, stranger even in the past few days especially. He’s not himself, and she was just craving some kind of regularity with him where they could talk and get back to them. All she’s really wanted was a normal day. She wants to wake up, kiss Killian, go feed Ada and play with her, talk to Henry over breakfast and send him off to school, and do all of their normal family stuff in the evenings.

And she wants to sleep with her boyfriend again.

Because that’s normal. It shouldn’t be a rare thing, not with them, not when she knows that they had such a healthy, strong relationship.

Not when she knows, when she hopes, that they still have that.

Everything has been a gradual adjustment of sorts. After what she’s chalking up to as the initial shock and a jerk reaction of Neal finding out she and Killian were together, everything has been much calmer. Well, calm isn’t exactly the right word to describe her life. It never has been, but she thinks in the past month, they’ve gotten into a sort of rhythm, even if it’s not necessarily the rhythm she likes.

Every single morning is like their normal(ish) routine of rushing to get children fed and Killian getting ready for work. Sometimes Neal is up, which really only slows them down because Henry wants to talk to him about every little thing, but most of the time he sleeps until mid-morning, sometimes even noon. It usually depends on if he’s going to therapy or one of the support groups he’s started going to after his interview last week. A lot of people have reached out apparently, more than before, and he’s trying some of them out as he acclimates back to life. He seems so good to her, but he must be struggling on the inside.

She understands that in a way. Definitely not the same way. She’s never been a prisoner of war, would never dare to compare anything in her life to that, but she can understand keeping things bottled up inside when you’re scared of what saying them out loud will mean.

God, that interview had been a disaster from the beginning. It was beautifully done, and she really is thankful for Neal getting to do it since he was so convinced that it was good for him. Then the interviewer asked about her, asked about her moving on, and she felt her entire body go lax except for her arms around Ada. She’s gotten judgment from people who she’s known over the years, but the last thing she needed was judgment from the entire world. It was a fair question, but…it wasn’t right.

It shouldn’t have been asked like that. It shouldn’t have been asked at all.

And Neal had answered it so eloquently, so sweetly, and it had absolutely shattered her heart.

He called her the love of his life even though they’re not together anymore. She didn’t know what to say to that, how to respond. So she didn’t. Afterward she’d hugged him and told him how proud she was of him, but she didn’t want to talk about anything else that happened in the interview. She couldn’t. She just wanted to spend some time with her kids, wanted to spend time with the two people who never fail to put a smile on her face even when they make her want to scream out in frustration.

“Can you, um, put her in her bouncer?” Killian asks, nodding to Ada on the ground, his lips ticking up only a slight bit before falling back down while his shoulders slump forward. Something is wrong. Something is not okay, and she’s terrified to find out, her own shoulders tensing while she tries to keep herself from trembling. She can’t take any more upheaval, but his face, his tone – they’re not right.  

“Killian, what’s wrong?” She slowly gets up from the floor, picking Ada up and putting her in her bouncer, focusing on each movement of her body while her heart pounds within her chest. Why does Killian look like that? Why does he want to talk?

All she’s wanted was for them to talk, actually talk, but she knows him well enough to know that this isn’t what she’s wanted.

“Emma, sit down.”

“No.” She shakes her head back and forth, refusing to sit down. If she doesn’t sit down, he won’t say what he’s about to say. She recognizes the look on his face now that they’re at eye level. It’s the one he gets when he has bad news, and she refuses to hear anything else. She refuses to have her world flipped upside down again. She thought it finally had a chance at getting righted. “No, just tell me.”  
  
“Darling,” he soothes, his lashes continually blinking against his cheeks as if he’s blinking away tears, “please sit down on the bed.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to talk to you.”

“So just fucking talk to me,” she chokes, the sob unexpectedly coming out of her, before putting her hands over her mouth in an attempt retrace her steps. Ada’s in the room. She can’t talk like that. She’s overreacting. Nothing has even happened yet. Everything is fine. Maybe it’s about something at work. Maybe he’s transferring departments. Maybe he’s getting fired. Maybe it’s anything other than what she already absolutely knows that it is.

She backs up to the bed, letting her ass fall to the mattress when the back of her knees hit the frame. Killian comes to stand inches away from her, squatting down in front of her with water in his eyes, making them so damn blue. That doesn’t help her in the slightest.

She really loves his eyes.  

“Emma,” he whispers, his voice almost as steady as it always is as he takes her hands in his, holding on tightly, “I don’t know how to say this. I’ve been rehearsing it in my head for days, and I don’t…I can’t find a good way to tell you how I’m feeling.”

“Please don’t.”

“I have to, love.”

“Please don’t call me love if you’re going to do this.”

“Aye,” he nods, squeezing her hands even tighter while his fingers run over her knuckles in what used to be a comforting motion. This isn’t real. It’s not happening. He’s not doing this. “Emma, I think we need to take a break from each other. You and I both know that it hasn’t been the same since Neal came back, and I feel like having some time apart might make things easier.”

“You can’t do this, Killian. Please don’t do this.”

“I have to do this.”

“No, no you don’t,” she begs, her stomach dropping and weighing heavily within her. She knew he was going to say this, knew he was going to do this, and she can’t. She can’t. She can’t. “You can stay. You don’t have to leave me. You don’t have to leave us. Please don’t leave us.”

“I’m not talking about leaving you all,” he promises, running his thumb over her knuckles again and again. She watches it, watches the way his hands are larger than hers, the pads rough from his years in the Navy and yet soothing as they move over hers. “I’m just saying that I sleep in a different room. I could stay down in the study, but I think that might be too obvious for Henry. I don’t want him to worry right now, so I was thinking I could stay on an air mattress in the nursery. Or even on the floor. Ada could stay in here with you. I’d be here. I wouldn’t leave our kids. I just don’t think I can be with you right now.”

“W-why?”

“Darling, you know why.” She wants to look at his face, but she can’t. All she can do is focus on his fingers, on the consistent movement that has them connected even as her stomach churns. “I can’t live with myself knowing that I’ve kept a family apart. You would never be with me if Neal hadn’t been captured. It would be you, him, and Henry. He loves you, Emma. He loves you so damn much, and it’s tearing me apart because I’m keeping you apart. I love you, I love our family, but our family is a little more complicated than it used to be. I think we need time apart so we can figure things out instead of avoiding every little conflict like we’ve been doing.”

“I don’t want that.”

“But I do.”

“Killian,” she sobs, snatching her hands out of his and scrambling up the bed. She can already feel the puffiness in her eyes, the ache in her head and the heaviness in all of her limbs, something similar to cement filling her veins and anchoring her to the mattress, “I don’t want it. I don’t want to take a break. I want our family to stay together. You say you don’t want to break a family up, but you’re breaking our family up. For what? Because you feel guilty? Guess what. I feel guilty too but I’m not about to break us up.”

“It’s a break. It’s not a break up. I need time to think, Swan. I need to not have you next to me every damn night. I need some kind of boundary with us. Do I want to do this? No, no I fucking don’t. But I have to. I have to do this. I have to give myself time to think and give you time to think. I can’t think of any other way to fix us or to know if we even need to fix us.”

“Get out,” she says as calmly as she can, taking deep breath after deep breath so she doesn’t yell for everyone in the house to hear. “Get out, take Henry to school, and don’t call me today. I don’t want to talk to you, Killian. Take your precious time because I don’t want it. I don’t _need_  it. You can have it to figure your shit out because I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with me.”

“Emma, I do want to be with you, but I – ”

“Out,” she cries, pointing to the door. Killian nods his head, quickly scurrying around the room for clothes. He wasn’t even fucking dressed yet, and he just broke up with her. Just like that. Who the hell breaks up with someone when they’re not even dressed? “Please get…get out,” she cries when he’s still buttoning up his shirt, and when he leans down to kiss Ada’s head, she only starts crying more.

She has no idea how long she stays in bed, how long it takes for the tears to stop flowing from her eyes. All she knows is that she feels sick. She could vomit over and over again with absolutely no reprieve. She knew it was coming the moment Killian looked at her like _that_ , but hearing the words has made everything worse. He’s leaving. He says it’s only temporary, that it’s a step back, but she knows from experience that it’s one step out of the door.

He’s leaving her just like most everyone has done. She thought that she’d finally found someone who wouldn’t do that to her, whether it be by his choice or something she can’t control, but she was obviously wrong. All she wants is to be with him, to have their family back together, but she can’t think with the murkiness of her mind.

A gurgle emanates from across the room, and she has to force herself to get out of bed even as all of her limbs protest, even as her heart constricts in her chest. She can’t quit. She can’t stop living her life. People rely on her, and as much as she wants to stay hidden away in the darkness, the shards of her heart surrounding her, she has a perfectly unbroken piece of her heart giggling just a few feet away.

Ada has no idea that her mom’s world just fell apart, and she’s not going to.

“Hey, Ada bug,” she hiccups, her voice harsher than she thought it would be as she takes Ada out of her bouncer, holding her tightly to her chest as she kisses the crown of her head of hair that she thinks lightens a bit every day, “Momma is here. I’m here, okay? I’m always going to be here.”

 

* * *

* * *

  

“She’s so tiny,” Henry whispers as he walks into the hospital room, his brown eyes blown wide as his gaze flitters between she and Ada. “She was inside of you?”

“She was,” she whispers back, scooting over in the bed and patting the small empty spot so Henry can crawl into bed next to her.

“Be careful, lad,” Killian warns a bit louder, his hands already reaching out as if Henry’s small frame is going to bring down she and Ada. “Your mum needs you to be gentle with her and with your sister.”

“I know,” he huffs, the irritation obvious as he climbs up into bed, settling his bony limbs next to her. He’s probably got to be exhausted with how many times Killian has told him to be gentle over the last nine months. She imagines there was a lot more of it in the waiting room outside. “You’ve told me that, like, eight thousand times.”

“Oh eight thousand whole times,” she laughs, pressing a kiss into Henry’s hair while she readjusts Ada on her chest. She remembers exactly what it was like when this was Henry in her arms, but it’s still altogether terrifying to have such a small child. It’s also terrifying to know that she’s going to get just as big as her big brother. “When did you get so smart that you can count that high?”

“I guess I’m just a genius.”

She and Killian both snicker, unable to hold it in. He’s so confident about everything, and even though that sometimes means he thinks he’s invincible and does dumb things, it’s usually endearing.

“I think so. How does it feel to be a big brother?”

“Weird, but Uncle Liam told me being a big brother is a very important job.”

“Did he now?”

“Yep,” he sighs, sinking down in the bed and tilting his head as he tries to get Ada to look over at him, his fingers reaching out and touching her shoulder before quickly pulling back. “He said that he’s Daddy’s big brother, and that I’m supposed to protect Ada and be her friend.”

“Oh I like that, kid. I think you guys are going to be best friends.”

“Yeah, but she’s just a baby right now. She can’t even talk.”

“So you’re going to wait until she can talk to be her best friend?”

“Maybe.”

She laughs, the feeling running through her, and she presses her lips against Ada’s head before she does the same to Henry. “I love you, Henry. You’re already doing such a great job.”

“I love you too. Can I go get lunch now?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, looking up at Killian who has soft crinkles around his eyes from the way his lips are ticking up on the side. He’s been a dad to Henry for a long time, but he didn’t get to be there for all of the pregnancy and the birth. This is like a whole new ballpark for him, and watching the softness in his gaze is so dang wonderful. “We’ll let Grandma come see your sister and then I’m sure she’ll take you to lunch.”

“Did someone say Grandma?” Ruth asks as she practically sprints into the room. Emma should have known that she’d be lurking outside the door. How could she not be after Killian left to go get Henry from the waiting room.

“It seems that Grandma was eavesdropping,” Killian teases, getting up from his seat and offering it to Ruth.

“Oh no, hon, I’m not sitting until I get to meet my new grandbaby. She’s my first girl.” Ruth walks over to her until she’s leaning just over Emma and kissing her hairline. Her hair has got to be disgusting right now, but she’ll allow Ruth this moment of affection. They haven’t always been close, especially since Ruth took her in as an angsty teenager, but her having kids has really closed the gap. “Hey, sweetheart,” she whispers in her ear, her breath warm, “I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” she sighs, blinking her eyes to keep the tears away. “Do you want to hold her?”

“Of course I do. Let me get my hands on this munchkin.”

“Grandma, why are you talking funny?”

“Because I’m just so excited,” she coos, picking Ada up out of her arms and carefully cradling her while she walks around the room. “Your mom and dad have given me a new grandbaby, and you know that my favorite number is three.”

“Last week you said it was seven because I’m seven.”

“I can have more than one.”

She tears her eyes away from the exchange that’s going on between Henry and Ruth to look over at Killian who was already staring at her, every bit of him relaxed and happy. She hurts like hell right now, but she feels the same.

“I love you,” she mouths over to him, reaching up to mess with the pendant around her neck.

He winks at her, the corners of his lips tugging up on the sides as hers do the same. “I love you too.”

 

* * *

* * *

  

She lines rolls out on a pan, making sure each of them is evenly spaced out for when they inevitably rise. She’s been cooking for hours straight. She doesn’t even like cooking, doesn’t think she’s great at it, but there are at least three pies in her refrigerator that say otherwise. Killian and David have pretty much been in charge of everything, but she’s had a need to always keep her hands busy over the past five days. If she doesn’t, she breaks down, and she can’t. She can’t break down.

Not again.

So she bakes and cooks and cleans and spends her time organizing Henry’s room, packing away his summer clothes and bringing down his winter ones from the attic only to have to go back up there to find the Spiderman shirt she apparently packed away. She’ll probably be looking for things he wants for weeks on end. Her entire house is spotless, all of her work at school done ahead of time until one of her students sends her an email needing help, and she’s bought far too many things to make Neal’s room as comfortable as possible for him. She has no idea how long he’s going to stay with them, especially with him beginning to travel back to D.C. once a week as of next week. He said he was going to meet with his commanders as well as a few Congressmen as they decide if he can even really go back to work like he wants.

She knows that he wants to be out and about, but they’ll probably stick him on desk duty or have him be some kind of poster child for the Marines since he’s living in Portland and not D.C. Honestly, she kind of likes that idea the most. She’d rather he be at home to be with Henry than flying off somewhere where she can’t even get in contact with him. When they were younger…God, she can’t even think about how many fights they used to get into over him voluntarily offering to leave even when his unit wasn’t called, but it always made him happier to be able to go. If it’s his passion, it’s his passion. Who is she to hold him back? She only hopes that he’ll take Henry into consideration and get a desk job…in Maine preferably.

There might not be any available that he wants (she’s personally a fan of the analyst job he’s been offered), but it seems like a better option than having to put Henry on a flight to D.C. to be with his dad.

Oh God. She can’t do that. She can’t send her child away. Neal has every right to Henry and Henry every right to Neal, but she can’t even think about that right now without her knees buckling underneath her. If she thinks about this, thinks about how she might be taking both of her kids off to stay with their dads instead of her…she won’t be able to stand. She doesn’t even know how it would work with Henry and Killian because she’d need to give Killian time too and…no, she can’t. She can’t think about this when she’s trying to get ready for Thanksgiving.

“Mom,” Henry shouts as he and Leo skid into the room, his sweater already rumpled despite how much she tried to find one he wouldn’t mess up, “can Leo and I go play on the swing set?”

“Of course. Stay away from the fryer though.”

“Yes ma’am,” Leo nods before running outside, Henry following behind him. They get so rambunctious when they’re together, and there’s literally no stopping them. She’s surprised that they even asked.

She puts the final roll on the tray before leaving them on the counter so they can be popped into the oven when all of the food is nearly ready to be served. After washing her hands, she moves to the living room where Mary Margaret and Ruth have been watching Ada. Her house is so full of people even if it’s only four extras, and she swears every time she walks into a room, there’s something different than before. She’s almost positive she had heard Neal in here talking to Mary Margaret and Ruth, but he’s nowhere to be seen. He must have gone outside with the guys.

Oh shit. Her house probably looks like some kind of ad from the sixties. At least she doesn’t have an apron on and isn’t wearing pearls.

That would not be her at all.

“Ruth, the oven is free if you want it for your casseroles.”

She waves her way, continuously running a toy into Ada’s stomach that makes her giggle. It’s the sweetest sound that usually fills Emma up with so much happiness, but out of nowhere she can feel tears stinging in the back of her eyes. That’s happening a lot lately. “I’ll get to them in a minute. My grandbaby was calling my name though. This outfit you picked out for her today is so cute.”

It is the cutest thing. She has on a red jumpsuit with ruffles on the shoulders and a matching floral headband that Emma loves.

“Oh, thanks. Killian dressed her this morning. I think we got that as a gift at my shower.”

“It’s adorable.” Ruth looks back up at her, a smile on her face that lessens a bit. “Are you okay, Emma?”

“It looks like you’re tearing up,” Mary Margaret adds in, and she cannot handle all of these eyes on her.

“I had chopped up some onions for the dressing,” she lies, forcing a smile and blinking away the tears. “You guys don’t want to go outside?”

“Nah,” Mary Margaret sighs, crossing her legs on the couch and looking up at the TV where a football game is playing, “David and Killian looked like they were getting into an argument over the turkey, so we figured it was safer in here.”

“Oh great, I just let Henry and Leo out there.”

“They won’t involve the kids in a squabble of a gobble.”  
  
“Good Lord, Marg,” she laughs, walking over to the other side of the couch and picking Ada up, fixing the frill on her romper before she sits down in the recliner, “you spend far too much time with eight-year-olds.”

“I am oh so aware.”

She sits and talks with them for a few minutes while nothing else needs to be done. She’d offered to host Thanksgiving this year back before her life got crazy, and while Mary Margaret had gladly tried to take over, Emma couldn’t let her. It’s part of her goal to keep everything normal. They can host a family event here without it being a big deal. It’s not like they’re a family of over forty people.

Of course, she also thought she and Killian would be together, that there wouldn’t be this overriding air of hostility, but she’s trying to ignore that. It’s not like she’s told anyone what’s happened. She’s pretty sure only she and Killian know. It’s only been a few days, and without fail Killian waits until everyone else has gone to bed to go into the nursery to sleep and is up and ready downstairs before anyone wakes up. She knows he can’t be comfortable in there, but it’s apparently what he wants.

How in the hell is that what he wants?

It’s not what she wants even as her anger at him builds and builds every time she looks at him going about his day like everything is normal.

Nothing about this is normal.

She really hopes that whatever it is he needs to figure out he figures out soon. She’s living in misery.

Throughout the rest of the day, she stays busy, balancing everything she needs to balance while everyone puts in a group effort to get dinner ready. It’s busy and loud and chaotic, and honestly, it’s just what she needs. The conversations at dinner make her smile and laugh, lightening the load on her shoulder a bit, and for just an hour or so, she’s the happiest that she’s been in awhile. She’s not thinking about how she feels like her life is crumbling. She’s thinking about all of the good things in it.

Until Neal unexpectedly leaves the table to answer a phone call that he insists on taking and suddenly that same heavy weight that’s been filling the air seems to be back, constricting her throat and weighing down her shoulders even more than it has been.

“He seems like he’s doing well,” David comments as he takes a bite of dressing. Henry and Leo left to go watch TV twenty minutes ago, and she was waiting to have this conversation. She knew it would be brought up. Why are holidays always so stressful?

“He is,” Killian answers, his gaze staying away from her as he looks at David. “I think he’s really and truly adjusting to life back. His therapy is doing wonders.”

“And it’s not weird that he lives with the two of you?”

“No,” he answers a little too quickly, his eyes looking at her for the briefest of moments before looking away. “It’s all fine. I think we’re doing great.”

Fucking liar.

“Excuse me,” she says as she pushes back from the table, nearly knocking over several drinks and plates full of food as she hastily gets up, the heels on her boots clicking with every step that she takes as she moves out of the dining room and finds the nearest exit in Killian’s study, opening the doors and closing them before she falls to the couch and looks at the wall she’s facing.

It’s a mistake as it’s filled with framed photos of Henry and Ada both alone, together, and with she and Killian. It’s literally his wall of family portraits, and looking at them used to fill her with so much joy thinking about how proud he was of their family, and now she can’t even look at them. She’s got so much to be thankful for, but she’s been hiding her emotions away for days now. She let herself cry the one time, and she’s finally allowing herself to do it again, water filling her eyes before falling to her cheeks.

“Emma.”

She doesn’t bother looking up, doesn’t bother acknowledging David or the concern in his voice as he closes the doors behind him before joining her on the couch, the leather squishing beneath his weight.

“What do you want, David?”

“I’m checking on you,” he murmurs, his arm reaching around her and pulling her in closer until she’s cradled into his chest, her legs curled up underneath her while she silently cries. She’s so damn tired of crying or wanting to cry or just…whatever, but she can’t make it stop. She’s been holding too much back. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Emma, you and I both know that’s not true.” His hand moves up and down her back, and she nods her head against his chest. He smells like the deep fryer mixed with the cologne he’s worn every day in the sixteen years that she’s known him. He’s not one for change. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you and Killian? And don’t say nothing. I’ve already tried talking to him about it, and he pretty much told me to fuck off.”

“Can I tell you to fuck off?”

“You can, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to listen.”

She sniffles, a bit of laughter mixed in, and even with the snot that’s running down her nose, this is the best she’s felt since she left dinner. “W-we’re…he said he wanted to take a break to think – to think about things.”

“About what?”

“Us,” she shrugs, not bothering to look up at David to have this conversation. It’s easier this way. It’s almost like she let everything out without having to see David’s reaction. Instead she focuses on a picture of she, Killian, Henry, and Ada in the hospital on the day Ada was born. She looks disgusting in it, but it’s one of her favorite memories. “I had a hard time listening when he was talking. I knew that it was going to end with him ending us, and I wasn’t ready to hear that.”

“No one ever is ready to hear anything like that. So it’s about Neal then? That’s why he wants a break? You guys have been so solid, and I can’t imagine anything else coming between the two of you.”

“I guess,” she sniffs again, wiping her nose on David’s flannel. She’ll have to offer to clean it later. She’s sure there’s mascara on it too. She probably looks like a raccoon with allergies or something. “I think he feels guilty, and I get that. How could I not? I feel guilty nearly every time I look across the table at dinner and see Neal talking to Henry, but what Killian and I had…I thought it was real. I thought he was always going to be there for me. I mean, I have a baby with him. I chose to have a baby with him. That’s not something you do with someone you don’t plan on staying with for a long time, if not forever. I thought we were going to get married someday.”

“I know, I know,” he soothes, his hand continuing its motions on her back, “but don’t you think that maybe Killian feels like you chose to do that with Neal first? That he was supposed to be your forever and Killian’s just someone in between, especially since you guys could have this miraculous chance at being a family again?”

And there’s the crux of the problem. No, there’s the problem. How does one deal with your husband coming back from the dead when you’ve moved on? There’s no guidebook, no help, and there’s no way to know how to do what’s best.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I – I try so hard to feel the love I once felt for Neal again. I do, but it’s not there. It hasn’t been nourished for eight years, and we weren’t in a good place when Henry was born. Henry was a surprise baby, and I was so shocked about him, you know? But I was so happy too once I got over all of the shock. I just…Neal wasn’t as happy,” she whispers, the words so quiet that they barely sound in her own ears. “I think he almost resented me for it, like I’d gotten pregnant on purpose when we weren’t trying, but then there’d be moments where I could tell he was just so happy. One day he’d be telling me he didn’t want a kid and the next he’d be making all of these plans for how Henry would grow up.”

“You never told me any of that.”

“I’ve never told anyone that. Everyone has always thought I was a screwup growing up. I didn’t want more people to think that I was a screwup in my marriage too. So many people told me I was too young when we got married…and I didn’t want them to be right.”

God, admitting that after all of these years is like a car being lifted off of her chest.

“Emma, I would never think you’re a screw up.”

“Really?” she snorts, the laugh watery even when she hears it in her own ears. “I’m having a meltdown on Thanksgiving, and you don’t think I’m a screw up?”

“I think you’re one of the strongest women I know going through a really tough time. The man you love is going through some – frankly, he’s going through some personal shit, and you are unfortunately getting the brunt of some of his pain even if I promise that Killian would never hurt you if he didn’t think he was doing what’s best. He loves you and your children, and every smile he’s put on today has been so transparent that it’s almost painful for me to watch.”

“What about Neal?”

“What about him, Em? If you don’t love him and don’t want to be with him anymore, you shouldn’t try to force it. You should simply be thankful that a man who you care for is alive and can get to be here for your son. He may have been what sounds like an asshole back then, and don’t you dare think that this is the last that we’re going to talk about that, but he looks at Henry with such love. That’s a man who loves his kid.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, leaning back out of David’s embrace so that she’s holding herself up, the hiccups only coming every now and then, “he does. I just wish none of this had happened.”

“If none of this had happened, you wouldn’t have Ada, and I know you wouldn’t want that. Life is weird. There’s no telling what’s going to happen and how one small change can affect absolutely everything. I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to try to not live trying to fix the past when you have so many good things right now. Things are going to work themselves out. It doesn’t mean that they’re not going to be painful, but it does mean that things won’t always seem this difficult.”  
  
“When did you get so wise?”

“The moment Mary Margaret put forty candles on my last birthday cake.” He leans over and kisses the top of her head, and she hiccups in response, her tears still falling if only at a lighter rate. “You’re going to be okay, kid.”

“I’m only ten years younger than you.”

“I know, but it feels like an entire decade or something.”

“You’re an idiot.”  
  
“How can I be an idiot when you just called me wise?”

She smiles. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Ems,” he promises, kissing her head again.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading! Double line breaks around the flashback :D

He wakes when his head hits the floor, narrowly missing the fluffy white rug that he’s been sleeping on for the past two weeks. His back hurts like he’s been repeatedly run over by his SUV, but this is the bed he’s made and he has to lay in it – literally.

This may have been the dumbest decision he’s ever made, and he’s made a lot of them in the nearly four decades of his life. With every part of his body aching, his head pounding a bit from the impact, he gets out of his sleeping bag and stands, taking a few moments to let his body wake up before he needs to get ready to go into the office. He’s only working a half day today so he can make his dentist appointment. It doesn’t take hours, but no one has to know that if he leaves after lunch and just doesn’t come back. It is Friday after all. He does want to go in a bit early to not fall too far behind, so he keeps that in mind as he quietly makes his way down the hall and into his bedroom…Emma’s bedroom…their bedroom…the master bedroom and slips into the bathroom without disturbing Emma or Ada as they sleep with what he hopes is not a care in the world.

Every morning that he does this he’s tempted to crawl into bed with Emma and hold her close to him for just a few minutes, but he knows that he shouldn’t, that he can’t. This was his choice to give himself time to think things through, and he’s not going to fall back on it while he’s still conflicted. He’s not going to let his moments of weakness get to him.

He can’t.

He wants to, but he can’t. He won’t let himself.

He’s never felt quite this alone, but he physically and emotionally cannot give in until he’s figured things out himself. He’s not hoping to figure absolutely everything out. He’s simply trying to set his mind straight and stop having his shoulders weighed down by guilt. Of course, the guilt he’s trying to make up for is only placing another kind of guilt on his shoulders, but this will all get better. He has no idea how or when, but he knows that it has to. It might not be in the way that deep down he knows that he wants, but it will get better.

Life would always be dreary if he didn’t have that hope for a better future.

After he’s showered, he quickly runs through his morning routine and gets dressed for work. He likes to be out of the bathroom before Emma wakes up to keep her from hurting anymore. He knows that what he’s doing makes her feel shitty. He can see it in her eyes whenever she looks at him, and honestly, he’s not sure if she’s ever going to forgive him. He’s not even sure if he deserves forgiveness for going about telling her he needed some time in the way that he did. He just knew that if he didn’t have a nice, clean break, he’d never get one at all.

He’d never get time to sort through his muddled feelings like he’s been trying to do.

He needs to talk to someone. He needs to talk to Emma, but how does he tell her that he loves her? That he loves her more than anything in this world but that he doesn’t feel he deserves to be with her?

How does he tell her the things he’s struggling to tell himself?

As quietly as he can, he exits the bathroom, letting the door stay open as he pads out of the room. Before he leaves, though, he takes a quick glance over to Emma and Ada. Emma’s still asleep, and he knows she’s not faking it from the noises she’s making, but his Ada girl is awake and gurgling away in her bassinet. Slowly but surely, he walks over to her and picks her up before leaving the bedroom, the door softly clicking closed behind him.

“Somebody needs to get ready for the day,” he murmurs into Ada’s ear, holding her against his shoulder while he walks her back to the nursery. “We need to get you all ready for the day so when Mummy wakes up, she won’t have to do anything but feed you. Plus, I can spend some time with you, my girl. I might even get your brother up early so we can all have some time together, yeah? Does that sound like a good idea to you?”

He takes her noises as affirmation as he gets her ready for the day, watching her eyes follow him with every movement that he makes. She’s so attentive that it’s scary sometimes, and he swears it’s like having one of those portraits where it looks like the eyes follow you.

This little girl is such a light in his life, and all he really wants to do is spend his day holding her close to his chest so she can feel his heartbeat in the same way that he can feel hers.

After he’s changed her diaper and her clothes, he takes her with him downstairs, talking to her in the way that he always does. He knows that he could go ahead and feed her before he starts breakfast for Henry, but Emma usually prefers to breastfeed in the mornings and to try to help out with solid foods. Ada is a big fan of avocados weirdly enough, but he doesn’t really blame her. Who wouldn’t like guacamole?  So he simply straps her into her bouncer on the island so he can make some scrambled eggs and cut up fruit for Henry. Usually they just let him eat cereal, none of them having time to cook in the mornings, but he’s been getting so little time with his kids lately that he figures it can’t hurt to make a little something to eat while he sits with Henry before school.

For all of the issues that Neal has caused in his life lately, the one he can’t begrudge him for in the slightest is spending time with Henry. Henry’s eyes just light up when he’s talking to Neal or when Neal offers to do something with him, and what more can Killian ask than for his kids to be happy? Nothing. It’s just…nothing.

He can hear Henry’s shower come to life as he moves the eggs around on the pan, and he knows it won’t be long until Henry is bounding down the stairs with his hair stuck to his head and his socks mismatched. Emma usually has to work some kind of magic to make his hair not stick straight on his head, and on the mornings where she sleeps in and it’s just him helping – it never works out well. He can do his own hair, but Henry’s is a whole other story. God knows that one day he’s going to have to learn how to braid hair for Ada, and that’ll likely be a disaster even if he usually can help Emma when her arms get tired from doing her own hair. Luckily Ada only has these honey wisps for now.

Sure enough, not ten minutes later Henry is sprinting downstairs and dressed in jeans and a sweater with his hair lying flat on his head, water droplets falling onto the navy of his sweater as he skids into the kitchen.

“Morning. Want some food?”

“Obviously.”

He chuckles underneath his breath as he fixes Henry a plate, ignoring the way that Henry turns his nose up at it being healthy instead of something sugary. That’s another Emma thing. She lets him have sugar far more often, but she also eats sugar far more often. He’s pretty sure that Henry misses Emma being pregnant because they ate like kings nearly every morning.

“Is Mum up? Did she wake you up?” he asks as he slides a plate to Henry on the bar, picking at his own eggs while his free hand moves against Ada to keep her entertained.

“Yep. You didn’t know?”

“Uh, no,” he answers honestly, scratching behind his ear. “I woke up early and brought your sister downstairs so your mum could get some more sleep. Do you think she’ll want some breakfast?”

“Probably, but she said she was going to take a shower. Can Ada eat eggs?”

“Not yet. Think that they might be too chewy for her.”

“I had a dream last night that she was a giant baby who ate all of the food in the house, so I was just wondering.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. It was _crazy_. She could walk around and all of her steps made, like, these loud noises, and she stuffed all of the food in her mouth before she crushed the house and moved to go to Mr. Wong’s house.”

“You hear that Ada bug,” he coos, tickling her stomach and listening to her giggle, “Henry says that you were a monster in his dream last night eating all of the food. That’s probably why he’s stuffing all of his eggs in his mouth right now.”

“I am not,” he mumbles, his cheeks full of food.

“Chew, my boy,” he laughs, taking a bite of his own egg. “Hey, so I have the afternoon off of work, and I was thinking we could drive out to that Christmas tree farm and get us a tree today when you’re finished with school.”

“Really?”

“Of course. We’ve got to decorate the house for Christmas.”

“Yeah, we only have twenty days. That’s not a long time before Santa’s here.”

“I know. So you think we should go? I’m thinking we get a giant one and put it next to the fireplace?”

Henry hums, placing his hand on his chin and looking into the living room like he’s contemplating it. “Yeah, I think we could do that. I’m going to put the swan on top, though.”

“Well, that is your job, buddy.”

“I know. I’ve got to do it. Can my dad come with us to get the tree?”

“We’ll have to ask him if he can after he gets off work, but I don’t see why not.”

“Cool.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

“Hello?”

“Hey, Swan,” he greets, walking off of base and making his way to the trains so that he can go home as he talks on the phone with her.

“Oh hi!” she says a little more enthusiastically before he hears a loud crash in the background. “Henry baby, no no no,” she sighs, muttering things he can’t understand on the other end of the line.

“Emma, are you okay? Is Henry okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. He just knocked a picture frame down. The glass didn’t break, which is good, but I’m going to have to move things around so he doesn’t hurt himself now that he pretty much sprints whenever he gets up.”

“Aye,” he chuckles, dodging someone on the street, “that he is. So I was calling to ask if you and the lad want to come over on Christmas? Or I can come to your place? I couldn’t get leave to go to London, and Liam apparently had some kind of shipping disaster at work. The ponce can’t take off to come here, and since you’re not going to Maine, I figured we could at least give Henry a happy Christmas.”

“Can you come here? I’ve got this tiny little artificial tree that I put up, and Henry really likes the baubles on it. Plus all of his presents are here. It’s not much, but I just…I’m lazy, and I don’t want to move it all.”

“Love, it’s literally no problem for me to come to your apartment, and don’t worry about food or anything. I’ll take care of that.”  
  
“Killian – ”

“No, nope. I’m taking care of it all. I know that your budget is tight, and I don’t want you stressing. I’m Santa Claus for you and Henry this year.” He hears a sniffle on the other end of the line, and it stops him in his tracks as he steps off of the sidewalk and settles down against a store’s windowsill. “Hey, did something else happen?”

“No,” she cries, the sniffles more obvious, “we’re fine, I promise. It’s just been a really tough few days. I feel so alone sometimes. No one…for a little while, I thought I’d have some of Neal’s friends and their wives around to help me, but no one but you has really stuck around. And it’s hard feeling like I have no one here in the city to turn to. I mean, my family isn’t here and I – I’m telling you far too much.”

“You had dinner yet, love?”

“What?”

“Have you had dinner yet?”

“No. I was just going to eat some cereal.”

“Rubbish. I’ll get some takeout and come over tonight, okay?”

“Killian – ”

“No, no. This is what’s happening. I’ll be there in a little under an hour, okay? Tell Henry not to knock over any more frames without me.”

“I’ll pass on the message.”

“Good.”

The minute he hangs up the phone, he turns around and tries to take a few deep breaths. He and Emma have always gotten on well, but over the past year, he thinks that they’ve become friends all on their own. Yeah, Neal’s death has definitely bonded them, but with Emma not really liking to talk about it most days, they’ve had to find other things to talk about and do. Henry was their bonding factor for awhile, but there’s only so many things they can talk about when it comes to his development and the new words that he’s learning.

Emma does text him whenever he says something new, and it’s always fascinating watching the video of her trying to coax it out of him again.

When he looks up, he sees several hand-painted toy boats in the display window behind him. They remind him of the hand-me-downs he had as a child, and even though he needs to be getting dinner so he can be with Emma while she’s having a bad night, he wanders into the store, leaving twenty minutes later with several wrapped boxes of toys for Henry and a carved Swan tree topper for Emma. He’d laughed out loud when he saw it, figured there’d never been a more ridiculous tree topper, but it was so fitting for Emma that he couldn’t not get it for her.

So he’s at Emma’s a little more than an hour later with one hand full of a bag of Mexican food and the other full of his gifts, and the moment Emma answers the door, he can see the exhaustion on her face, defined lines around the red rim of her eyes that no woman in her early twenties should have. He places everything on the ground, closing the door behind him with his foot, and wraps her in a hug, feeling her shoulders shake underneath his touch.

“Shhh,” he whispers, rubbing his hand up and down her back while his heart breaks for her, a coil in his stomach tightening, “it’s okay. You’re okay. It’s all going to be okay.”

He can feel her head move under his chin, her nod resonating with him, but he doesn’t let go until she pulls back, wiping the tears from her eyes. It absolutely kills him to see her cry like this. For the first few years he knew her, he doesn’t think he saw her show any kind of emotion. Then Neal was declared missing or dead or whatever the hell the Marines had told Emma last year, and he swears that he’d never seen anyone cry that many tears. It went on for months until one day it just…stopped. Nearly every time he’d see her, which wasn’t as often as he’d like in the first few months, she’d either sob or have just finished sobbing. He hates to be a man who says a woman can only cry because she’s hormonal, and while he doesn’t believe that, Emma had just had a baby. Feelings were going to be amplified, and he imagines losing your spouse while gaining a child is completely and totally overwhelming.

He’s lost a lot of friends, Neal included, but outside of his mum’s death and his father leaving, he’s never lost someone he loved like Emma loved Neal. The closest thing that can compare is him losing Milah. They’d been together for so long, almost half a decade, but somewhere along the way things had drifted apart. They’d drifted apart, and in a moment of weakness, she’d been with another man. He knows it was likely due to his deployments and his busy schedule, but he lost her because he wasn’t around. She betrayed him, but he can’t help but feeling that it was a bit his fault. It’s not at all comparable to having her die, but oftentimes there’s just this… _ache_  in his heart where he misses her. He knows that she’s happy now, that she’s married someone else, and honestly, that’s all he’s ever wanted for her. She should be happy with someone who’s going to be there for her.

It’s a complicated situation to be with someone who has betrayed you. Of course he felt anger and hurt, but he loved her. That didn’t change. He loved her enough that he was willing to work through things. It simply didn’t work out. It wasn’t meant to be for them.

Emma must get that ache sometimes. The ache of simply missing someone, and he’s never quite wished he knew how to soothe it more than he does right now. He doesn’t want Emma to feel that ache, but he imagines it will always be there. He’s never met anyone quite as strong-willed as she is, but even the strongest wills (and walls) eventually fall.

“What’s in the bags?” she mumbles against his shirt.

“Food.”

“The other bag.”

“That’s a secret for Christmas morning, love.”  
  
“Seriously?”

He leans back so he can see her eyes, the green bright against the water that’s still shining there. “Seriously,” he smiles down at her, reaching up to wipe away the tears from her cheeks. “Now come on. Let’s eat.”

They don’t talk about anything serious that night. They simply eat their food after he helps put Henry to bed, and he lets Emma guide the conversation. She keeps things light, only talking about the most superficial of things, but if she doesn’t want to talk about their phone conversation or why she’s been crying so much today, he won’t force it out of her. If she feels like talking, she will on her own time. So they watch television and have a good night doing nothing, and when she does want to talk about everything Christmas Eve night, all about how she feels like she’s failing Henry every time she can’t do something on her own, he lets her. He lets her talk about how she knows that life is never fair but how she does feel like she keeps getting the short end of the stick over and over again even when she thinks she’s finally got something good going for her. She misses David and Ruth, and she quietly admits to him that some days she doesn’t even miss Neal for him but rather that she misses him so she’d have someone to help her out. Of course, that admission only makes her crawl back into her shell, backtracking on the words and going on and on about what a horrible human being she is.

“I miss Neal. Of course I miss Neal. Of course, of course, of course. Ah, fuck. I don’t – I don’t…I’m such a screw up.”

“No, no, you’re not.” He reaches over to her on the couch and grabs her arm, squeezing tightly for just a moment. “Your life has been difficult, Emma, and nothing you said is wrong. I know that you miss him without you having to say that. Just because you’re overwhelmed and want help, want the life that you thought you were going to have…that doesn’t mean you’re a bad person for thinking that.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.”

“I promise it’s true. Not every thought you have is going to be rainbows and butterflies. Though for tonight we could make it candy canes and reindeer for festivity reasons.”

“How could this night possibly be festive?”

He moves his brows across his forehead in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I’ll let you open a present early.”

“Oh my God,” she laughs, throwing her head back against the couch. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. You can open the one in the green packaging.”

“I’m going to do it,” she says, getting up from the couch and walking over to the small tree that she has, picking it up and bringing and back over to the couch before she unceremoniously rips open the paper to reveal the cardboard box, opening it up even further while he feels his face heat, body suddenly full of nerves. “Is this a – ”

“Swan tree topper, yeah. For the Swan family.”

She looks up at him, her eyes bright but with no tears filling them. Good. Her lips even tick up on the corners, and he hopes that means she’s feeling lighter. “You know Henry’s last name is Cassidy, right? I’m the only Swan.”

“Aye, I know,” he whispers, his voice somehow loud in the quietness of the room as he reaches over to tuck Emma’s hair behind her ear. He knows that she hates when it falls in her face. “You never changed your name, but just because a last name is different doesn’t mean anything. I’m sure Henry will like the Swan too. When he gets older, of course.”

Her lashes flutter against her cheeks, and his heart beats so wildly in his chest that Emma must be able to hear it. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“It’s not problem, love. Why don’t you put it up on top of the tree?”

“Can we…” She looks at him with her lips parted before she looks down the hall. “Can we do it with Henry in the morning? I know he won’t remember, but I’d like to start a tradition with him since I didn’t last year.”

“I think that sounds grand.”

In the morning there’s more wrapping paper on the floor than there is carpeting despite the small number of presents underneath the tree, but it’s a joyful thing that. Henry is fascinated with everything he’s unwrapped, but mostly he likes messing with the bows, sticking them on his cheek or on Emma’s knees over the flannel of her snowmen pajamas. And before the day is up, they remember to put the swan on top of the tree, all of the multi-colored lights reflecting off of the white beacon on top.

 

* * *

* * *

 

The moment he gets home after his dentist appointment he sheds the jacket from his arms and hat from his head, shaking out his hair as he kicks his shoes off. He knows that no one else in his family ever takes their shoes off when coming in from outside, always tracking snow and dirt in, but he can always hope that someone will follow his lead. With Neal working again, the house is quieter than he’s used to, all of his movements echoing. Without them living near a base, there weren’t a lot of options for Neal here, but he’s set himself up as an information’s analyst downtown two blocks over from Killian’s office. He’s going to be flying out to D.C. every now and then to meet with some of his bosses and talk about his future. Once a week is what he’d said, but Killian isn’t too sure about that. It’ll probably be every few weeks, and he’s not sure how much it’ll have to do with Neal’s career in the Marines, especially since he’ll likely never be deployed again. It’ll likely be because Neal’s face is plastered across news stations for being a hero, and politicians like to publicize on that.

While Neal was pretty much an omnipresent member of their household for the first month, things are calming down now that they’re settling into a routine.

As glad as he is that Neal has something to do that he finds fulfilling, he’s honestly glad that he’s not always around simply so he can have time to think. Seeing Emma and Neal around every corner…it made it nearly impossible for him to understand the way he felt his stomach roll every time he looked at them talking about anything at all. He hates himself for feeling that way. He still thinks asking Emma for a break was the right decision even if he knows that he hurt her. He hurt himself too, and every time he watches her snatch her hand away from where it was about to touch his thigh or when he watches the tears randomly form in her eyes, he feels as if his stomach might as well be lined with anchors. But it’s right. It has to be right. They needed to take a step back from each other and assess everything that’s happened with calm around them. When their emotions run high…who knows what will happen?

He doesn’t.

Is this right? Has he fucked up? Those seem to be the only words in his mind when he’s so desperately clinging onto finding something more.

He might not ever.

Despite the silence he can hear the TV on in the living room, and his legs guide him there to find Emma curled into a ball, a blanket wrapped around her, and her eyes glued to the screen as she watches Friends. She doesn’t even pay him any attention, which is the norm after Thanksgiving when no one else is around, so he sits in an armchair across from her, propping his feet up on the ottoman.

“Is Ada asleep?”

“Yep.”

“How has your day been?”

“Good.”

“Are you going to talk to me using more than one word?”

“Nope.”

“Emma.”

“Killian.”

“For fuck’s sake, you just can’t ignore me.”

Her eyes cut to him then, and he’s never felt a chill cross his body like the one that just did. His arms are covered in gooseflesh, and all he wants is to put back on his jacket and head back out in the cold in search of warmth.

“Are you really going to tell me that I can’t just ignore you when the entire reason I am ignoring you is your own damn fault?”

“You know that’s not true.”

“It is. You’re the one who said you wanted this idiotic break. You’re the one who walks around this house like everything is coming up daisies, like everything is fucking perfect. And maybe to you it is. Maybe this is just some weak excuse to try to phase me out. You’ve found an opportunity to leave, and you’re going to take it.”

“Hey,” he scoffs, much louder than he intended when he knows there’s a sleeping baby upstairs, “none of that is true. And we are on the same team, remember?”

“I believe that you dismembered the team, _Captain_.”

She spits out his old title with such venom that another chill runs down his spine, and he knows that he should shut up, that he should not push this further when Emma’s day has obviously been anything but good, but he’s not about to let Emma think that he’s going to abandon her. He would never despite what’s going on right now by his own doing.

“We are still friends and partner and parents.”

“Oh I’m sorry. I thought that we were on a break from absolutely everything. Excuse me for not realizing that we can pick and choose the ways we’re broken up. What’s next? If you want a casual fuck, that’s allowed too?”

“That is not what I’m saying, and you know it. And how many times do I have to say that we are _not_   broken up?”

“Haven’t you ever watched this damn show?” she hisses, motioning out to the television where Rachel and Ross are on screen, irony seemingly everywhere. “A break is never really just a break, Killian.”

“I don’t take my life advice from comedies, so I view it as something a little different.”

“Of course you do. Of fucking course you do. But you know what? I don’t. Or at least I can’t right now. I have had some of the hardest two months of my life, and you’ve just left me to deal with it all on my own.”

“I am right _here_ , Emma.”

“You’re not though. You’re not. You’re off figuring your own shit out, thinking about how you can’t break Neal’s family up, thinking about how you want to give him a chance at having his family back. Well guess what? All you’ve done is break _our_   family up. I can’t believe how many times I’ve had to say that. You care so goddamn much about your own guilt that I bet you haven’t even stopped to consider how the only people who are really getting fucked up here are our kids and me. You might think you’re being selfless, but you’re being so goddamn selfish that I can’t even look at you sometimes.”

“Love – ”

“What did I say about you calling me that?”

“Swan, I need you to listen to me.”

“I’m good, thanks.” She throws the blanket off of her before she gets off the couch and starts walking out of the room. “You can go pick up Henry from school. Neal cancelled on him. He can’t make it to the damn Christmas tree farm either.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, buddy,” he greets when Henry climbs into the back seat, throwing his backpack down and buckling himself in before he crosses his arms over his chest. “You have a good day?”

“Yep.”

He twists in his seat at Henry’s voice, and that’s when he sees the splotches on his skin and the set of his jaw. “Henry, what’s wrong?”

 “I don’t want to talk to you,” Henry shrieks before turning his head and looking out the window while the car behind him blares its horn for him to move out of the carpool line. “You have to go.”

“I need you to tell me what’s wrong first.”

“You’re going to block the line.”

“Fine,” he huffs, concern filling him as he puts the car in drive and moves out of the pick-up line. Something is obviously wrong with Henry, and they need to talk about it. He’s honestly just not sure how to go about it.

God, if he gets home and Ada is having a fit, he’s going to need to run for miles to work off his frustration. He might as well start running now.

About halfway home he decides that maybe Henry needs a change of pace, so instead of continuing onto the house, he pulls into a café, parking around the corner.

“What are we doing?”

“We’re going to get something to eat. Mum wanted some soup.”

“I don’t want to get Mom soup.”

“You can get a sandwich and some chips. Come on, it’ll be like a snack before we go get the tree.”

Henry nods his head before he gets out of the car, and Killian has to hurry to do the same before Henry’s running off without him. Something must be really messing with his head because he’s never this quiet right after school. He always has something to talk about, but he barely answers Killian’s questions about what he wants to eat when he’s ordering food for everyone. He doesn’t know if Emma will actually eat any of this, not since he’s the one bringing it home, but it’s the story he told Henry. And maybe it’ll help mend the bridges a bit. They need to talk. He was thinking this time apart, this him stepping back, would help, but if Emma’s anger is going to fester…he knows that it’s not helping.

They need to get away with just the two of them and actually talk through things. He wants to be with her more than anything, but he’s struggling. He doesn’t know what to do.

He’s fucked up, but he really did think it was the best decision he could make. Emma could have…she and Henry could have their second chance at the life they’ve always deserved.

But they’re not going to accomplish anything by avoiding and hating each other.

They should have talked at the start of this. They shouldn’t have avoided everything.

_He_  shouldn’t have avoided everything.

Instead of going back to the car with their food, he settles down at an empty table in the corner of the restaurant, putting Henry’s drink on the table and watching him as he messes with the buttons on his shirt, his eyes never making contact with Killian.

“Hey, hey, hey, buddy,” he begins, tapping on the table until his son looks up at him. He can be dramatic, but he’s never like this. “Henry, you have to talk to me.”

“I don’t want to.”  
  
“Are you upset?”

“Yes.”  
  
“And what do we do when we’re upset?”

Henry mumbles something under his breath, huffing to himself while the red in his face begins to calm from where it had flared up again.

“Say it again, son.”

“We talk to Momma or you.”

“Aye, we talk to Mummy or Daddy,” he repeats, reaching his hand over the table so he can squeeze Henry’s shoulder. “So why don’t you talk to me about why you’re upset? Or we can talk to Mum when we get home.”

“I don’t want to talk to Momma.”

Killian raises his eyebrow, confusion building within him. Henry always wants to talk to Emma. There are times when Henry doesn’t want to talk to him, but without fail, Henry always wants to talk to Emma.

“Why not?”  
  
“Because.”  
  
“Because what?”

“Because Jonathon and Brandon were mean to me today about her. They called Mom names.”  
  
He raises a brow, things beginning to make sense even though some of his greatest fears since the interview are coming to fruition. The very last thing that he wanted was Henry to be affected negatively. It’s why they didn’t want him doing it. They’d agreed to let Neal talk about him, but no more than that.

“Henry, what did they call her?”  
  
“I don’t…I don’t know what it means, but I know it wasn’t nice because Kensie said they were saying a bad word. They were telling me that their moms and dads, that they were talking about how Momma is a whore. What’s a whore?”

White rage builds within him, his shoulders tensing and jaw clenching to the point of pain, but he can’t be angry right now. He can’t. He’s got to deal with Henry, and he can’t do that if he’s ready to go punch the shit out of Jonathon and Brandon’s parents.

He’s going to get arrested for assault, and he doesn’t even care. No one has any right to talk about Emma that way. Taking a deep breath, he tries to figure out how the hell to explain to an eight-year-old who sees such good in the world that his mother is not a whore. What even is his life?

“A whore is not a nice word, buddy. We don’t ever use it, okay? And I promise you that your mum is not one. What they were saying, it’s not true. I know it’s hard, but you just have to ignore what everyone says about us. It’s not true. Our family is our family. Your mum and I love you and Ada more than anything in the world. That’s what I want you to remember.”

Henry finally looks up at him then, determination in his eyes, and even though he looks so much like Neal, right now all he can see is Emma. “But why are they saying that?”

“Sometimes people say mean things, and it’s usually because they’re having a hard time. That doesn’t mean it’s okay.”

“Did you say a mean thing to Mom?”

“What? No. What are you talking about?”

Henry shrugs before he takes a sip of his juice. “She was crying this morning when she woke me up. I didn’t know why. I thought maybe you just said a mean thing to her since Jonathon and Brandon made me cry.”

“No, Henry, I – ” He…he doesn’t even know what to say. Exhaustion is running through him, making his eyes feel heavy along with every other inch of his body. This is all so screwed up, and he has to fix it. If Emma is crying in the mornings before they’ve even spoken and if Henry is noticing things and having trouble at school…he has to fix this. They have to fix this. He can’t do this anymore. “Sometimes your Mum and I do say mean things to each other, but we always say we’re sorry. We love each other like we love you, and that’s not going to change.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah, son. I promise.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come chat with me on Tumblr at [let-it-raines](https://let-it-raines.tumblr.com/)


	9. Chapter Nine

“Momma, do you know where my red jacket is?”

“Is it not in your closet?”

“Nope.”

She sighs, leaning her head back against the wall with Christmas ornaments piled between her legs. She’s been adding back the hooks that fell off while they were all up in storage for the past year. It’s pretty much all of the ornaments, and since she’s tired of doing this every year, she bought the nice hooks that are supposed to stay on. It just means that she has to do them all.

God, she cannot wait to go back to work even if it does mean leaving Ada at nursery because she needs another kind of structure than this.

“Do you need it right now?”

“Yeah. Avery’s mom is going to take us ice skating tonight, and you said the blue one isn’t warm enough.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay, I’ll go look for it later. Why don’t you go get your dad and ask him to come and help you to put all of these hooks on?”

“He’s napping.”

“Seriously?”

Henry shrugs. “Yeah, he said he was tired.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” she repeats to herself, running her hands through her hair. All she really wants is a nap as well, but she’s got Henry while Killian’s at the grocery store with Ada getting food for this afternoon while they decorate the tree. “Do you want to watch a movie while I go look for it?”

“Can I watch the Grinch?”

She smiles to herself before picking up all of the ornaments and placing them back in the container. “Yeah, I’ll set it up, and I promise I’ll be back to watch it with you as soon as I find your jacket for tonight? Do you also need your skates?”

“Yep.”

“Of course you do.”

She leans down to press a kiss into Henry’s hairline before setting the movie up for him. She’s got no idea where any of his stuff is, especially since they just went through the attic for all of their Christmas decorations, so she assumes it’s all simply somewhere in his closet.

So of course it’s not. His skates are, but she’s stupidly realized that they’re far too small. How did she not think about that? Probably because she’s had two straight days of hell that seem infinitely worse than everything else. She’s trying so damn hard to be positive, to remember all of David’s encouraging words, but it’s difficult when he’s not here reminding her of them in the hard times. And texting him isn’t exactly the same, especially when she’s not sure that she wants him to know absolutely everything that’s so messed up in her life.

It’s a lot.

She’d been so annoyed with Killian yesterday, everything he did rubbing her the wrong way, and she knows that it’s because she’d stayed up all night simply replaying conversations and memories and everything she should have left alone.

She was wallowing. She knows this, but recognizing something and stopping are two totally different things.

Then he’d come home from his dentist’s appointment with a smile on his face trying to talk to her like everything was as it should be, and she couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t, so she snapped. It felt so good to let her anger out, but she knows that she only got part of it released before she pulled back and stepped away, not wanting to take things too far, not wanting to say things she’d truly regret. They’re so damaged right now, and as good as it felt to yell at him, she knows that they’re on the same team despite what she said. Even if they burn down in flames and are left as nothing but ashes, they’re always going to be on the same team because of their kids.

God, she _hurts_.

And then while they’d been at the Christmas tree farm Killian had pulled her to the side and told her what happened to Henry at school. She could see the hesitation in his eyes, could see how nervous he was scratching behind his ear, but he told her everything. She knows it couldn’t have been easy for him, could see the vein bulging in his forehead as he relayed the story between two duglas fir trees, and as pissed as she was at the fact that there are parents at Henry’s school calling her a whore (which is absolutely ridiculous and takes women back a solid fifty years), she was infinitely more upset that Henry was having to go through something so ridiculous. He’s eight. He shouldn’t have issues like having to deal with his classmates calling his mom a whore.

He’d seemed fine as they walked along the lot, a smile on his face as he talked about how big each tree was to all three of them, but Killian didn’t hold back in talking about how upset he’d been. The words “we need to talk about all of this some more” were on the tip of her tongue when Henry yelled her name as he pointed up at a tree. They’d gotten interrupted, and she hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Killian again as she carried Ada over to where Henry was.

She really needs to talk to Killian because she can’t live like this anymore. She can’t live with her life full of more questions than answers and uncertainties than certainties. She can’t live like this. They have to talk.

And not just about them either. About everything.

Walking out of Henry’s room and down the hall to hers, she heads to her closet and starts going through all of the shirts and jackets looking for Henry’s red jacket. She has no idea why it would be in here, but it always seems like this is the place where things go missing. Sure enough, she sees the box she just marked ‘winter jackets’ sitting on the top shelf on Killian’s side of the closet. She can’t reach up there on her own, so it takes some maneuvering to get a chair out of the bedroom into the closet so she can stand up to get the box. She still has to press up on her toes to get it, and she thinks she’s got it until she stumbles and knocks the box down, having to catch herself on the bar that hangs all of Killian’s suit jackets that she just knocked over, all of the clothes tumbling to the ground with a large thud.

The saying when it rains it pours really seems to be sticking around for her right now.

It’s just raining suit jackets. And Henry’s red puffer jacket that tumbled out of the box.

It takes awhile to get the chair moves back so she can pick everything up, especially in her attempt to make sure all of the jackets are in the order that Killian likes (sometimes he’s so weird about things like this). His old dress whites are the last thing she hangs up, and as she’s straightening out the wrinkles in it, she feels a hard box in the pocket that immediately stops her in her tracks.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

She can feel her heartbeat in her ears. It’s actually in her ears, and if she was breathing, she’s sure that would be irregular too. Her hands shake as she reaches into the pocket, pulling out a small blue velvet box, and she nearly vomits right then and there. She shouldn’t open this. She shouldn’t. It’s not her business. This really isn’t her business, but now that she’s seen it, she doesn’t think she’s going to be able to live not knowing what’s inside.

She knows that it’s a ring, but for some reason she needs to see the physical proof of it.

Her teeth clamp together and her eyes close before she’s snapping it open, opening one eye to look at the diamond that’s in her hands. It’s gorgeous, just a simple oval diamond with a gold band that shines under the light in the closet.

This is – Killian was going to propose to her, she realizes, and her legs shake beneath her until she’s sliding down the wall and curling herself into a ball while she continues to stare at the ring, disbelief that it’s real. They’d talked about getting married. It wouldn’t have been completely out of the blue, but she had no idea that he’d bought a ring, that he must have been holding onto it for months now.

Finding out like this feels wrong, dirty even.

It should have never been like this.

None of this should have ever been like this.

“Hey, Ems, what was that sound?” Neal asks from her bedroom, and she quickly stuffs the ring into her shirt and her bra before he comes into view, half of his face covered in pillow creases. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I, um,” she starts, reaching up to fidget with her necklace, “I accidentally knocked down Killian’s suits when I was trying to get a box off of the top shelf, and I guess I’m on the floor trying to finish the clean up.”

Neal quirks an eyebrow at her, and she has to force a smile onto her face while her heart still beats quickly. That was a bad lie, and even she knows it. “I’m glad it was just the suits. It woke me up from my nap.”

“Sorry,” she cringes, getting up from the ground and brushing down her jeans before she grabs Henry’s jacket and holds it over her chest. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great. I’m just tired as all. It’s weird working a desk job again, especially because I stayed late yesterday to finish up some reports.”

“I cannot wait,” she laughs, nudging past him to walk out of the closet. “I love spending time with Ada, but I want to go back to work. Chilling at home isn’t really my thing.”

“Trust me, no one knows that more than me.”

Her steps stop at his words, but she shakes it off and keeps walking out of the room, hoping that Neal will follow her. Having him in her bedroom feels wrong, and all she can think about is the box pressing into the skin of her chest and a similar box that Neal gave her eleven years ago when he proposed under the cherry blossom trees in D.C. when they’d been out on a walk. She was so young then, so in love, and her mind can’t wrap itself around the difference in her life then and the difference in her life now.

“Yeah,” she chuckles awkwardly, twisting her head to make sure he’s following her as she stands in the hallway, boxes of Christmas decorations next to the stair railing that looks over the entrance to the house, waiting for them to come face to face with each other. “So, um, do you want to help out with some decorations? We tend to get really festive around here.”

“The giant tree in the living room tells me that.”

“We always get a big tree. It’s, like, this tradition now because I used to have this tiny fake tree when I lived in an apartment after you…after you died, and, well, um, Killian wasn’t having it. So now we have these giant real trees, and Henry gets to put this swan tree topper on it even though it looks ridiculous now.”

His lips curl up into a smile, his entire face crinkling, and she feels her own face do the same thing. “That’s wonderful. Do you guys do the whole Santa thing?”

“Yep. Santa comes to visit, and he leaves some smaller presents unwrapped on the couch while presents from us go wrapped under the tree. It’s Ada’s first Christmas, so I’m super excited about it. I guess it’s your first Christmas too. With Henry, I mean. So if you need help finding him a gift, I can go shopping with you.”

“He likes trains, doesn’t he? That’s what he said.”

“Yeah, but we have far too many trains in this house. Killian and I, I think, are going to get him a bike as his big gift, so I don’t know. You could get him something to go with that. Or maybe you could get him some more journals or crayons. Uh, books, he likes books. Or games for his Switch thing. We try to go minimal on the games, but he can get a couple. I’ll just have to tell you what games to get. Ooh, or – ”

“Emma,” Neal laughs, reaching over to put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing her sweater to get her to stop rambling, “you don’t have to list the entire toy catalog of toys. We can just go shopping or something. Though it’s not like we can go to Toys R Us anymore.”

“Look at you all up and current on the news,” she sighs, reaching up to quickly pat his shoulder before moving her hand back down to keep clutching Henry’s jacket to her chest.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to talk to my coworkers about shit when I don’t know anything that’s happened for years.”

“True. You want to go help set some decorations up now?”

“I’d like that. But, I, uh,” he mumbles, his feet staying put while he smiles with that crooked smile of his that she always found so charming, “I was wondering if you were okay, Ems. I know it’s been a lot of changes, but you’ve seemed a little frazzled over the past few weeks.”

“I’m fine,” she lies, pressing her lips together in what she hopes looks like a genuine smile. “You’re right that I’ve been a bit stressed, but we do have a lot going on.”

“And you and Jones, you’re fine too?”

“Yeah,” she spits out, knowing that she can’t start crying now. “We’re great. Like I said, even with how absolutely thrilled I am to have you back, it’s been a lot on me and Killian. I’m happy to do it, though.”

“I understand. It can’t be easy to have your husband living in your house with your boyfriend.”

Well shit. She knows he doesn’t mean anything by it, but she might as well tell him now. She’s going to start telling people how she feels today, and it might as well start with Neal. Maybe not everything, but she can start.

“We’ve divorced, Neal,” she mumbles, hoping that he can hear her as her eyes look at the light fixture just behind his head. Someone needs to dust that. “I don’t – I know that it’s not fair to you, but we are. I signed the papers last year to have you officially declared dead and us divorced. So technically we’re not married, and as much as I will always love you, I’m not sure that I see us ever getting back together or contesting the papers or whatever. I’m sorry.”

Her gaze falls back to his, and she can see a storm rage behind the brown of his eyes. They’re widened for a moment before he closes them, lashes landing against his cheeks while the corners of his lips curl up into a small smile that makes all of the lines on his face appear, the lines that she’s still getting used to.

She really did just blurt that out, didn’t she?

It feels damn good.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he begins, his voice as soft as she’s ever heard it, and she’s not sure if her heart breaks or heals as he opens his eyes again, water pooling in them that makes him look like Henry. “I mean, I kind of figured. I’ve been a little scared to talk about the legalities of it all, but I’ve pretty much known since you told me that you and Killian were together. You’ve been my wife in my mind for over a decade now, so I guess I’m still going to refer to you that way. I’ll try to work on it.”

“Neal, it’s fine,” she promises, stepping forward and wrapping him in a hug, hoping the Henry’s jacket will keep him from feeling the ring box. “It’s okay for you to need to adjust. You’ve been through hell, and you came back to an entirely new world. Henry and I, Killian too, we’re always going to love you.”

“I love you guys too,” he whispers as he buries his face in her hair.

For all of their problems, both past and present, she knows that nothing could ever change that she does love him in a way. He was her best friend for a long time, and he gave her Henry. For all the bad, there’s still good, and right now she can’t find it in her to dredge up all of the bad when having to tell Neal that she legally took him out of his own family.

But maybe that’s what she’ll work on next.

After they pull back from each other, they walk downstairs and turn to go back to the living room where Henry is still perched on the couch watching The Grinch, and she tosses him his jacket, listening to him murmur a “thank you” before she plops down next to him and pulls a box of ornaments toward she and Neal so he can help her thread all of them with the new hooks. It doesn’t take long with help, and they get everything done before the movie is over. Neal asks her if she wants to go ahead and start hanging the ornaments, but even with how upset she is with him right now, it doesn’t feel right without Killian. He should be here.

She wraps her arm around Henry’s shoulder and pulls him into her side, kissing his hair even if he protests a little bit. One day he’s going to be too cool to be affectionate with her, but today is not that day. He’s her little boy, and all she wants is for him to be happy. His day yesterday was so rough, and he doesn’t at all deserve anything that he’s had to go through because his parents’ lives are difficult and because other parents don’t know how to have private conversations. He deserves to get to watch Christmas movies and go ice skating with his best friend. He deserves for his parents not to be separated and moping despite how hard they’re trying not to seem upset.

She’s a mom. She’s been a mom for eight and a half years, whether she was ready for it or not, and life doesn’t stop for her no matter what’s going on. She has to keep going.

 

* * *

* * *

 

“Neal, I’m serious,” she groans, quickly twisting her hair into a braid so that her hair will stop falling in her face while she looks over her notes. “I don’t want to go out tonight.”

“Come on, babe,” he smiles, walking over to her and tucking her bangs behind her ear before she can pin them back, “it’ll be fun. You’ve been studying for days. It’ll be nice to get to go out.”

“I’ve been studying because I have finals coming up in two weeks, and I’ve got to keep my GPA up for my scholarship. It’s not like I’m going to make enough when I graduate to pay off loads of debt. Plus I still want to get my Masters and – ”

“Ems,” Neal whispers, leaning down to press a kiss on her cheek, “it’s okay. You work so hard, and I love you for that. But sometimes it’s good to take a break. Besides, when we get married, you can use my grant for your Masters. It won’t cost you any money.”

“Really? You’re sure that I can use it?”

“I’m positive. I looked into it and everything. I know your mom doesn’t have much money, but we’re going to be set.”

“I know you’re good at your job, but I don’t think it’s going to set us up for life.”

He shrugs before walking back to his dresser and pulling on a flannel shirt over his t-shirt. “I’ve got savings. I’m twenty-seven and have some leftover stuff that my mom left me when she died. It’s not like I’m just starting out. So we’ll be comfortable.”

She brings her bottom lip between her teeth, biting a bit while she weighs the pros and cons of going out tonight. It’d probably be fun. It’s been awhile since they’ve gone out.

“Okay, I’ll come with you, but I’m not going to drink tonight, okay? I’ve got to wake up early and go through my notes again since I only got to section three.”

“That sounds perfect.”

After she changes into jeans and a sweater, throwing her red jacket on to combat a bit of the cold, they go to Oceania, which is Neal’s favorite bar. She’s never seen the appeal of it, but it’s apparently where everyone here in the military goes on their nights off, no matter the branch. So she’s been here a few times, and it’s that fact that has her moving away from the bar and going to get a booth in the back. They’re much more comfortable, and she’s less likely to get hit on by random guys. She’s fine with it if only because she can take care of herself and it rarely goes too far, but when Neal has had a few beers, he doesn’t think the most rationally. She loves him, but sometimes when he pulls shit like that, she wants to tell him to fuck off.

It’s not often though. He’s a good guy, and she’s so happy that she’s found him. He’s probably the first person besides Ruth and David to really care for her, and he makes her feel like she’s found another home. A really good one. She spent most of her life alone, and while sometimes she still prefers it to be that way, it’s good to have a family.

She twists the ring on her finger, looking at the large diamond, and fiddles with it until she sees Neal coming back with their drinks. He’s just got a water for her, but she can see his almost empty glass of whiskey. She can also see that he’s bringing a group of people with him, guys following around him and talking to him, and she braces herself for the introductions. She’s always been so bad with names, and it doesn’t help that they always all look alike.

“Babe,” Neal greets, sliding into the booth next to her and giving her the glass of water, “I want you to meet a couple of guys. That’s Scarlett, Whale, and then you know that guy Jones I’m always talking about?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s him on the end there.”

She waves to all of them since she can’t reach over to them, and they all wave back. She’s never heard of Scarlett and Whale before, but she knows a bit about Jones. Killian. His first name is Killian even though Neal prefers last names. It’s a military thing, she guesses. Neal is always talking about him because they watch soccer together and sometimes train together outside of their units, but she doesn’t really know a lot about him. He’s not really how she pictured him either.

His hair is a little longer than a crew cut, his face not exactly clean shaven, and even in the dim lights of the bar she can see the blue of his eyes. He’s attractive. Anyone with eyes can see that, and the fact that he’s dressed in tight black jeans and a fitted t-shirt doesn’t hide the fact that he’s fit. But all of these guys are fit. It’s the nature of their jobs.

What she really doesn’t expect, however, is the accent.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, lass,” Killian greets, sliding into the booth across from her and flashing her a toothy grin. “Cassidy’s not one for talking too much about you, but I already know that you are far too good for him.”

“Undoubtedly,” she teases, laughing a bit at his joke while she pats Neal’s forearm. “But you can’t tell him that.”

“It’ll be between us, love.”

“I’m literally sitting right here.”

“I was enraptured by your fiancée’s beauty, mate,” Killian sighs, winking at her before looking at Neal. “Can you blame me?”

“A little bit yeah.”

“Hey,” she laughs, slapping his arm, “this is prime time where you say the same thing happens to you.”

Scarlett and Whale both whistle at that, and she turns to look at them still standing until they both squeeze into the booth next to Killian. She kind of forgot they were there.

“Cassidy, you’re supposed to compliment your lady.”

“Scarlett, you are the last person who should be giving me advice on this.”

“Hey, I dated Anna for years. I just fucked it all up.”

“Exactly,” Neal sighs, wrapping his arm around her shoulder while he chugs down the rest of his drink. “I’m not going to fuck this one up. Emma’s great, and she’s graduating from college soon, unlike every single one of us.”

“What are you studying, love?” Killian asks her, and everyone else at the table groans, much to her confusion. “Bloody hell, it’s not bad to ask someone what they’re studying. If you don’t want to hear about school, you can go sit someone else.”

“I know all about this, so I’m going to go get another drink,” Neal states before unwrapping his arm and getting up from the table. “Do you two want to come and join me?”

“Yep. It was nice to meet you, Emma,” Whale mumbles, smiling at her before getting out of the booth.

“Yeah, it was”, Scarlett adds. “I’m sure we’ll be back later. I want to talk to whoever is in charge of the music tonight.”

“It was nice to meet you guys too.” She watches them all walk away, their conversation fading the further they get and the louder the music playing over the speaker becomes. She’s never been great with small talk, so she’s a bit hesitant to be left with this stranger. He’s not really a stranger. She knows a little about him, but still. She wasn’t really prepared to be having a conversation with just him. “So, yeah,” she starts, focusing her eyes back on Killian as he taps his fingers on the table, “I’m getting my bachelor’s in psychology. I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do, but I was always somewhere between social worker, therapist, and guidance counselor for high school kids. I’m leaning more toward counselor because I think I’ll enjoy it while also helping out. My counselor is the one who encouraged me to go to college when I didn’t think it was a possibility for me, so yeah.”

“That sounds brilliant,” he tells her, and she’s not sure why she feels relieved hearing it, but she does. “I never went to university, as you heard. I’d always wanted to, but after I was unexpectedly moved here when I was twelve, things were a bit crazy and money was tight. And by the time I’d turned eighteen, the Navy was my best option. And if I really wished to, I could always go back to school.”

“It’s not for everyone, but I definitely think it’s worth it. So you’re from – ”

“England,” he finishes for her. “I grew up south of London, and my brother has moved back there since he married a woman from home. But I like it here, have citizenship and all that, so I decided to stay. Though I do like to go back every now and then to make sure I don’t lose my accent. It makes people think I’m a hell of a lot smarter than I really am.”

“I was thinking it probably helped you get girls.”

He smirks at her, actually smirks, and she feels a shiver run down her spine. “That too, but I find that I actually have to be interesting to keep a girlfriend.”

She laughs at that, especially with the way that his brows move over his forehead. He’s funny, and even though she barely knows him, she has a gut feeling that he’s one of Neal’s better friends. They’re not all bad, but some of them are assholes.

“I mean, looks only get you so far, so I’m glad you realized that.”

Killian leans forward on the table and props his chin up in his hand. “So you think I’m attractive then?”

“That is not what I said,” she protests, blush rising on her cheeks.

“It’s what I heard. It’s fine, love. I know that life is unfair for other men when I’ve got the looks and the personality.”

“And you’re humble.”

“That I am,” he sighs, leaning back and wiping the smirk off of his face to show a soft smile. “But seriously, I’m most definitely kidding. It doesn’t hurt to be confident, but I don’t want you to think I’m some undeniable asshole.”

She hums, trying to think of what to say in response. She has a feeling that he’s quick on his toes and can turn any conversation on a dime. He’s kind of a mystery to her, but then again, he might be an open enough book for her to figure out. “Well, I just met you, so I’m thinking you’ll have to prove it over more time than just now. But, fair warning, I consider all people to be assholes until they prove themselves otherwise, so you have the tide working against you.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Yes.”

One side of his mouth ticks up before he reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “I like you, Swan. I have a feeling you and I are going to be good mates.”

“Really now?”

“Yep. Now tell me all of the weird things you can about Neal so that I can mess with him later.”

“You want me to help you mess with my fiancé?”

“I do indeed.”

“Okay, but only if I get to help. What is love if there’s not a little teasing involved?”

“Really damn boring.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

 The front door opens, and she reaches forward to pause the movie, much to Henry’s dismay.

“Why are you pausing it?”

“We’ve got to go help Daddy bring in the groceries.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Henry groans and throws his head back against the couch before he’s scrambling up and walking out of the room with she and Neal following right behind him.

“Don’t look so excited to help,” Killian jokes as he watches Henry walk through the front door. “Hey, Swan. Ada has been a bit cranky, and I didn’t have a bottle so – ”

“So she needs me,” she sighs, stopping her steps toward the front door and turning to get Ada from her car seat on the floor. “Got it.”

“Thanks, love.”

She smiles tightly at him before she’s adjusting Ada on her hip and watching everyone else go outside to get the groceries. It won’t take all three of them, but they’ll learn that when one of them is coming back empty-handed. “Alright, bug,” she sighs, walking back into the living room and settling down in a recliner so she’ll be comfortable. “I’m sure you had a good time with your daddy, but you are fussy and need me, which is both reassuring and kind of annoying. Imagine what life would be like if Daddy could breastfeed.”

It’s a weird thought, but it’s a valid one nonetheless.

She moves to roll up her sweater and unsnap her bra when she’s suddenly reminded of the box she has hidden in there, the box that no one else can see right now.

Shit.

This day has been an absolute rollercoaster.

Quickly, she pulls the box out of her bra and stuffs it into the waistband of her leggings, the bulge obvious under the material, and gets Ada adjusted as much as she can, hoping that no one will pay her too much attention for the next few minutes before she can return the ring to Killian’s uniform jacket and stuff away all of her thoughts.

Or maybe not. Maybe she should talk to him. That’s what she’s been thinking all day. Now that she’s calmed a bit, she respects his choice of needing time, but she doesn’t respect his choice of not listening to her and her feelings, of not giving her an option. It’s selfish, but she can’t live in this sense of limbo. And it’s not like Killian hasn’t been selfish too. It’s too hard to act like she and Killian are okay when they’re not. It’s too hard to have to balance her crumbling relationship and her children and her ex-husband.

God, her chest feels lighter now that she’s not harboring that secret from Neal anymore.

She and Killian are going to talk. They have to. She has to take her life back because she has fought too damn hard for things to be okay for everything to fall apart because her kid got his dad back.

She’s going to get her life back if it kills her.

It’s going to kill her if she doesn’t, if she can’t. She has to get her life back.

She’s been so damn hurt by Killian, but honestly, all she wants is to be with him as long as they can work everything out.

“Mom,” Henry shouts as he runs into the room, “We’ve got cookies, but you guys can’t make them tonight because what if Ada eats them all while I’m with Avery?”

“Ada can’t eat cookies, kid.”  
  
“But what if you put them in the blender so she can?”

“We will not make the cookies without you, and Ada will not eat them. But, you know, when she’s older she can eat cookies, and you have to share.”

“I know. So you promise you won’t make the cookies without me?”

She sticks out her pinky, and Henry intertwines his with hers. “Promise.”

They spend their afternoon decorating the tree and the house, bright lights and ornaments adorning nearly every room. Killian puts Henry on his shoulders, and Henry puts the swan on top of the tree, completing everything in the house down to the wreath on the door that has a monogrammed “J” on it despite the fact that their household is made up of two Joneses, two Cassidies, and one Swan.

And a partridge in a pear tree.

Or a swan in a Christmas tree.

She doesn’t know. She’s lost her mind.

But for a couple of hours things seem normal again, and she feels her face hurt from smiling. It’s been a long time since that’s happened, and as she sends Henry off to go ice skating with Avery, money in his pocket to rent some new skates, she lets herself revel in it for a moment before she deals with the box that’s still pressing into the skin of her hip.

Before she takes her life back.

Once she gets Ada down for her nap, she take a deep breath (and then a couple more) and walks back into the living room where Killian and Neal are watching TV. She doesn’t understand how he can spend time with Neal and not her. Why does he need a break from her but not from Neal? Why doesn’t any of this make sense?

“Hey, Killian,” she asks, and he twists his head to look at her as he taps his fingers across the back of the couch, “can I talk to you for a minute?”

His eyes slant for a moment before they open back up, and he presses his lips together before nodding his head and rising from the couch. “Tell me if they catch the guy, yeah?”

“Sure thing, man.”

Killian walks over to her, and the moment he opens his mouth to say something, she nods her head and moves around the corner to that she can walk up the stairs, knowing for sure that Killian is following behind her, his footsteps heavy on the wood as it creaks beneath his weight at the same time that the weight in her shoulders begins to increase, her body humming in anticipation of laying all of her cards out on the table. She’s been through too much shit to have to go through more of it.

“Okay,” she sighs as they both walk into the bedroom, Killian closing the door behind him.

“You said you wanted to talk,” he asks calmly, sitting down on the edge of the bed as his eyes glance over to the chair that’s sitting in the closet. “What’s up?”

Her stomach churns, but she pushes it down, shutting her eyes for a moment before she’s lifting her shirt and taking the ring box out of her waistband and placing it on the bed right next to Killian. She opens her eyes to watch him, but all he does is widen his eyes before his hand is reaching out and thumbing over the velvet, caring for it like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

Maybe it is to him.

Maybe to him it’s a physical representation of how their life should be.

“Emma – ”

“No,” she starts, straightening her back and crossing her arms over her chest, “I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen, okay? And then we can hash it out. We haven’t talked in months, and I’m sick of it. I can’t do it anymore. So you’re good to listen?”

He nods his head and presses his lips together again while his knuckles go white around the box.

“You are an idiot. Do you know that? You are an idiot, Killian. I love you so much that sometimes it hurts, and I thought that you felt the same way about me. I thought that you wanted a future with me, and finding that box today made me think that maybe you’ve changed your mind after all that we’ve been through. The damn break makes me think that too. I still want a future with you. I have never not wanted that. Do you understand me? Neal coming back is supposed to be a blessing. It’s not supposed to be something that’s going to tear us apart.”

“But what about him? What about your family? What about Henry?”

“You think that I want to be a man who accused me of having a drunken hookup with you and implied that that’s the only reason why I have my daughter? You think I want that? You think I want to be with a man who I don’t even know anymore? Who I barely knew then when I really think about it? Killian, I loved Neal a long time ago, still love him in a way now, but I was young. He was older. I thought he knew everything, that he could help me finally have the life I never got growing up.”

 She shakes her head back and forth as the rage runs through her. She’s not even sure that it’s rage. It’s likely just the release of her emotions and of everything that’s been bottled up and festering below the surface.

 “I was so bitter about my childhood still, about how no one wanted me for so long, and he did. He wanted me. You know all of this. You were there for a lot of it. But you weren’t there for the way that he would sometimes dismiss my feelings, for the way he would laugh at me when I got excited at things, for the way he wasn’t happy when I told him I was pregnant with Henry. I loved him, I thought the world of him, and I know that I’ve glossed over so much of that shit because I thought he had died and wanted Henry to think his dad was a hero. You thought he was a hero. And he is. But he is not the man I want to be with. So if you could get the stick out of your ass and just stop feeling guilty like I did and love me like you’re supposed to love me, I feel like we won’t have to play this stupid game anymore. I can’t...I can’t do it, Killian. I can’t hang on your string too.”  
  
By the time she’s finished talking, her chest is heaving, her shoulders moving up and down, and she can feel her heart beating between her ears. That’s not how anatomy works, but she can feel it. She can _hear_   it. It’s also what causes her to start laughing, for laughter to bubble up and rise through her chest before it escapes past her lips in a sound that she would describe as insanity in the form of laughter. There’s no other way. She’s lost her mind. She really has.

“Are you okay?”

“No, no,” she laughs, a hiccup escaping her as she tries to see Killian through the tears that are pooling in her eyes. “No, I’m not okay. I’m not okay. I’ve lost my mind, and I’ve lost my life. I’ve lost everything.”

The tears that stemmed from laughter suddenly sting hotly behind her eyes, and something shifts behind her as her legs become shaky and she moves to sit on the ground, her back resting against the dresser, a knob digging into her skin that might as well be cutting into her.

“You have not lost anything,” he murmurs, and she can see the blur of him as he squats down next to her and pulls her into an embrace that she doesn’t fight. She encourages it, wrapping her arms around his waist and sobbing into his shoulder as she can feel his hands moving up and down her back, tracing her spine. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I fucked up, that I didn’t listen to you, that I wouldn’t talk to you, that I thought that I knew best. I don’t, Emma. I don’t. I love you, and I was terrified to lose you. I am _always_   terrified to lose you, and I shouldn’t – I don’t know how to fix us when I’m the one who broke us.”

“I just want you to talk to me. I just want you to stop sleeping in the nursery and to come back in this room. I want you to stop feeling guilty. You are not keeping me from being from Neal. If I wanted to be with him, I would be. I love _you_ , you insufferable jackass,” she sniffs, leaning back as much as she can with how their limbs are twisted so that she can look in his eyes, the blue cloudy enough to nearly look gray. “I love you,” she whispers, reaching up to caress his face, to feel his scruff against her fingertips, “and I want to have our family back. Isn’t that what you want? We were so happy. Don’t you want to go back to how we were?”

“More than anything.”

“Then stop being stubborn and talk to me so that we can be us again.”

He nods his head up and down before leaning forward and pressing his forehead against hers, the heat of his skin comfortable and familiar and wonderful. “I’m sorry.”

“I am too.”

“We need to talk about what’s going on with Henry at school.”

“We need to talk about a lot of things.”

“Aye, it’s just – ”

“What?” she smiles, her fingers still tracing his face, running over the scar on his cheek that he got when a mirror shattered on his ship and cut his face. Her heartbeat has calmed, the regularity of it returning, but all of the sudden it starts up again. This time not in fear, but in anticipation.

“I just really, desperately need to kiss you for a minute before we talk some more about how much of a jackass that I am and all of that other stuff.”

She laughs again, but this time it’s not quite so insane. It’s watery, but it’s happy. And instead of talking, she slams her lips forward to capture Killian’s lips with hers, and the softness is exactly like coming home after searching her entire life.

The kiss lingers for longer than she expects, a gentle caress turning into a desperate slow dance. She thought it would be frantic. In all of the nights that she allowed herself to imagine them coming together again, she always thought it would be frantic, but she should have known better. Sometimes they can be rough and hurried, coming together so quickly and harshly that they’re both left with bruises, but usually it’s soft and slow.

It’s like this.

It’s not frantic, but there’s still an urgency, a need, and she revels in the way that Killian’s nose presses heavily into her cheek, into the way that his scruff burns her as much as the heat of his hands snaking up underneath her shirt while her hands cup his jaw, feeling each movement of his mouth on hers.

The weights that have been on her shoulders, the ones that are lessening and gaining and changing every day, disappear into a lightness that she can’t explain. It’s giddiness and desire and love all wrapped up in one. They have so much to talk about, so much to figure out, but they need this. She can’t speak for Killian, not really, but somehow she knows.

When you love someone, you know.

Clothes are shed as the stand, and for the briefest moment she remembers Ada sleeping in her crib in the nursery and Neal watching television downstairs, but she really doesn’t need to be thinking about Neal when Killian’s hands are fumbling with the clasp of her bra, releasing it and letting her feel free as the rough pads of his thumbs ghost of her nipples while heat simmers under her skin. Ada, well Ada will sleep for another hour, maybe two, and if she wakes, they have the monitor.

It’s all a blur. She wants to remember it all, wants to memorize things like she did the first time they slept together, but the awkward fumbling and uncertainty are replaced by sure hands and even surer movements as they both rile each other up, metaphorical flames flickering across her skin as Killian hovers above her, teasing her until he slides in and begins rocking against her, full and thick and…like home.

She wishes she could think of something else, some other way to consider it, but Killian has been home to her for a long time, even longer than they’ve been together. He’s a steady partner for her, the person who often keeps her from spiraling, and he understands her. Maybe it’s that they both have some not so stellar childhoods. Maybe it’s that they have both been through great loss. Maybe they simply work in a way that she doesn’t need to dissect.

“Emma,” he whispers, his thrusts coming to a sudden halt and making her whine out in frustration. “Emma, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”  
  
“Then why are you crying?”

He releases her hip to thumb away at the tears that have apparently fallen. Oh. She didn’t…she didn’t even know or realize, too caught up in the ecstasy and emotion of it all to notice that she’s crying.

She didn’t know.

“Do you not want to do this?” Killian asks her, the concern evident in his eyes, and she can feel him retreating until she moves her hands from his back and cups his cheeks, running her own thumbs over his cheeks, tracing the scar again.

“No, baby, no,” she promises, pushing back her frustration of having Killian still inside when he was just deliciously hitting all of the right places so that she can focus on what’s actually important right now. “I want to do this. I do. Don’t think otherwise. I didn’t even realize I was crying. I just – I love you so much, and I can’t…I don’t know how to express that with just my words. I think my body is letting out months of anxiety and sadness and relief over finally feeling like something in my life is right again.”

“For someone who claims not to be good with words, you were pretty good with them there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, slowly moving inside of her again, just a simple push and pull. He’s got this affection in his eyes, this life, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to the way that he looks at her like she hung the moon and created the tides of the ocean. Her breath always catches when it happens, her heart swelling, and she never wants it to stop. “That was really good, Swan. I love you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing. Let’s just…you want to have this conversation a little later? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing?”

Killian chuckles, something deep and throaty, before his lips are consuming her and his hips are snapping into hers. She’ll take that as a yes.

There’s a heaviness to his body over hers, a meaning to each snap of his hips, but she can’t explain it. She can’t think about it too much. They’ve fought before, absolute blow outs, but it’s never been like these past few weeks. Joining together has never been quite like this. It’s not that the sex is better or worse or different. They’re both still just as skilled and as in tune with each other as they’ve been for years, but it’s different.

She’s been craving normalcy, but she’ll gladly take this different, gladly take getting her life back.

She’ll take having them back.

And as she violently trembles beneath him, everything becoming too much for her and the emotions spilling over once again, she knows that she’s got them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters all happen pretty close in time to this one instead of skipping larger chunks of time like some of the other chapters have done. The next chapter actually is a continuation of this one so, you know, more talking will be done then 😊


	10. Chapter Ten

 “We need to get dressed,” Emma whispers to him, but she doesn’t move. She doesn’t unwrap her arm from his waist or move her cheek away from where it’s pressed into his chest, right over the beat of his heart. He wouldn’t normally think of that, but he knows that she has to feel how quickly it’s beating right now.

It could beat out of his chest.

“We need to talk.”

“I know,” she admits, twisting her head and smattering kisses against his chest, against all of the skin and scars and hair that reside there. It feels so damn good to have her pressed up against him again, and he never wants it to stop. He never wants to let go. “And this is such a crappy thing to do, but we probably have to put it off until tonight. We’ve got…it’s not going to be easy, and I don’t think we can get it done before Ada wakes up.”

She makes a good point. He hates that for a few moments he forgot their daughter, but she wasn’t exactly what was on his mind while he was having sex with her mother. That’s how she was created, but still. His mind had been lost in the emotion of it all, in the emotion and ecstasy of having Emma back in his arms. It was his fault that she’d left, but he’s slowly making his way back to realizing that he never should have done that. And it’s not a flittering thought followed by the argument, the contrasting thoughts keeping him in an unescapable limbo. It’s what he thinks and how he feels. He can’t not have his partner back by his side, but he knows that they need to talk, that it’s not all solved.

They just can’t have this talk right now.

“Why don’t we clean up a bit, get dressed, and then grab Ada before heading back downstairs to sit with Neal for a little while, though I really want to talk about some of the stuff you said about him earlier. That’s – it was fucked up, and we’re not going to ghost over it.”

“Later,” she promises, and he knows that she means it. They’re finished not talking things through. That’s not them, and they’re going to fix it, fix them. “We’ll talk about everything later. You can make a list on your phone since I know that you want to.”

“I know you’re being sarcastic, but it feels so damn good for you to be teasing me again.”

“It does,” she sighs, kissing up his neck and his jaw before she briefly brushes her lips over his, vibrations moving all the way down to his toes. “I’m going to fix my hair and, well, my face and change back into my old clothes, okay? I don’t really want Neal to know that we weren’t just talking.”

“Swan, I think he knows that we’ve had sex.”

She groans before rolling off of the bed, the soft curves of her skin on full display to him as she picks up clothes from the floor, tossing his back to him before she disappears into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her while the water of the sink runs. He’s not entirely sure that he can get up now, not with the lingering ecstasy and the slight shake in his limbs. He’s got more thoughts running through his mind than before, which he always thought was an impossibility. There’s so much to say, so much to unpack.

So little time and yet all of the time in the world in front of him.

Slowly, he gets up and off the bed as well, finding one of Ada’s baby wipes and cleaning himself up before he gets dressed, straightening up his clothes and his hair while looking into the mirror to make sure that nothing is too messed up. His collarbone is a little red from Emma’s lips and teeth, but the collar of his shirt covers it anyways. It’s been a hell of a long time since they had to hide the fact that they had sex from an adult. Henry? Sure. But someone over the age of thirty, not so much. It’s idiotic, but it’s also the slightest bit thrilling.

Even in his head he knows that’s immature, that it’s petty. He and Neal aren’t in some kind of competition to win Emma. She’s not a prize to be won. Her heart can be won, but only with her permission, and he’s lucky enough to have gained that a long time ago.

 

* * *

* * *

 

“It’s like a swampland out here,” Emma complains as they walk back to her apartment, Henry in between them with his hands in each of theirs. “We have got to find another public pool.”

“I like that pool, Momma.”

“I know, Henry,” she sighs before letting go of Henry’s hand to grab the key so she can unlock the front door. The lad is dragging a bit, so he picks him up and rests him on his hip. He’s getting bigger, but it’ll be years before Killian can’t carry him anymore. Or at least until he can’t carry him for long distances. “We had a fun day today, didn’t we? Killian taught you how to dive.”

“I was like a fish,” Henry shouts, throwing his hands up in the air so that he has to dodge to keep from getting punched by a kid. “Did you see me look like a fish, Killy?”

“I did, lad,” he promises, hoisting Henry up a little more while they finally get back into the apartment. “You did so well, even when you almost lost your swim trunks.”

“That was funny.”

“Indeed it was.”

“Alright, we’ve got to get you in the bathtub so that you can be a clean fish,” Emma tells them as she puts the tote bags they brought to the pool with them down in the entryway, sand likely somehow in them despite the pool only having the one sand pit play area.

“I’m already clean.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am,” Henry huffs, and he braces himself for the tantrum that is inevitably going to come. It usually does on long days like this, and he was wondering when it was going to happen. “I don’t want a bath.”

“You’re taking a bath,” Emma says flatly, rolling her eyes a bit before she takes Henry out of his arms despite the squirming that’s happening. He could knock teeth out with those limbs. “Babe, do you want to find something for dinner while I handle the sea monster?”

“Are you sure, love? I can help.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she promises, her lips forming in a soft smile while Henry’s protests get a little louder. Emma’s mood is about to sour because of this, but he already knows that she’s going to get it all done by herself. She’s a wonderful mum, a super one really, and as much as he’s been a part of Henry’s life for years, it’s only in the past four months that he’s truly gotten to see much more of what Emma goes through being a parent. She told him before, let him help before, but he finds that when he wakes up at three in the morning because Henry’s had a bad dream and needs to tell his mum about it, he really gets to see the intimacy and trust Emma and Henry share.

Being with Emma, really and honestly being with her, since May has been one of the greatest things to ever happen to him, if not the greatest. She’s so bloody wonderful, and getting to show and tell her that is a great honor to him. He loves her more than anything, and even if they haven’t said it yet, he’s thankful to love and to be loved in return.

He’s forever thankful that he gets to be a part of Emma and Henry’s lives even when he can hear Henry having a meltdown from the bathroom.

The kid has some lungs on him.

While Emma is bathing Henry, he pulls the chicken out of the fridge and chops it up so he can make fajitas for them. It’s quick, easy, and they can give Henry the chicken without worrying about him spilling it or not liking it. The lad’s a rather picky eater, and he probably gets that from Emma. He didn’t go out to eat a lot with Neal, the two of them mostly staying at the gym or in bars, but he doesn’t remember him ever not liking anything. He usually liked just about everything. Maybe Henry will be like that someday.

He turns on the stove and drops some chopped up onions and peppers in the pan before adding the chicken, listening to it sizzle as the cries from the bathroom calm down. Henry’s either worn himself out, the day in the sun finally getting to him, or Emma’s struck some kind of fear into the lad with one of her stares. He’d bet it’s that the kid is tired, but he doesn’t know.

Twenty minutes later he’s got the food all set up on the counter, Henry’s plate already fixed, and Emma and Henry walk down the hallways and turn into the kitchen. Henry’s already got on his new Ninja Turtles pajamas, and his hair is lying flat on his head while it dries. Emma looks like she’s run a marathon today, and he knows that they’re going to be in bed the moment Henry is asleep.

Dinner goes without too much issue. Henry is definitely still in a mood, but he’s not flinging food anywhere or screaming, so honestly, he takes it as a win for today. Sometimes it’s the small things. But within the hour, he and Emma have Henry in bed, having read him a story and tucked him in, and just like he thought, the moment Emma gets to her room, she collapses on her mattress, spreading out like a starfish.

“Why do we take him to do fun things when it ends like that?” she moans, the tiredness seeping through every word.

“Because it’s nice when he’s not tired.”

“I don’t remember. I’ve blocked all happiness out for the disaster was giving him a bath.”

He hums as he takes off the shorts he’s had on all day and grabs the pajama pants that he keeps over here, pulling them up and letting them rest on his hips while he sheds his shirt and tosses it into Emma’s hamper. They didn’t talk about him staying over tonight, but he has every night this week. He doubts tonight will be any different.

“Well, darling,” he sighs, walking over to her and leaning down above her so that he can brush his lips over hers, nipping at her upper lip with his teeth, “you shouldn’t do that. Henry had a grand time today, you too, and you should remember that.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Are you going to throw your own fit?”

“Yes,” she huffs, and he brushes his lips over hers again before moving up her face and ending at her forehead, the awkwardness of kissing her upside down fading the slightest bit. “It’s my life, and I can whine if I want to.”

“That’s not how the song goes.”

“It’s how my song goes.” She rolls over on the bed and over to what he’s come to know as her side before he sits down on the mattress, getting himself comfortable before Emma leans over and wraps her arms around his waist, her head resting on his shoulder. “Thank you for being awesome today and every day really. I know dating me likely wasn’t your life plan.”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” he sighs, threads his fingers into the ends of her hair and brushes through the tangles that have gathered from a day in the pool. “I think I signed up for this a long time ago.”

“Yeah, but that was back before Henry could talk while he was throwing fits. Back then it was just incoherent screaming.”

“Swan, I promise I don’t mind. I love you both, and I will listen to the fits as much as I have to.” Emma tenses under his touch, her entire body going still and her arms tightening around his waist. He’s not sure what’s just happened, so he timidly looks down at Emma, using his free hand to tilt her chin up at him. “What’s got you so tense?”

“Nothing,” she lies.

“Would you like to try that again?”

“I d-don’t – ” she stutters, her eyes closing before they open back up again. “Did you just say that you love me?”

“I – ” Oh hell, he did. He wasn’t going to do it that way. He was going to let Emma say it first, let her take the lead. Their entire relationship is complicated, even with how well they work together, but he didn’t want to overwhelm her. He’s the first person she’s truly been with since Neal, and being in love would be a big deal for her. But he did say it, and he does mean it. And he’s not going to lie to her. “I do love you,” he whispers, running his thumb over the dip in her chin while he softly smiles down at her, his heart steadily beating against his ribcage. “I love Henry too, but I am so in love with you Emma Swan that I could easily run through fields of flowers and swim in that public pool all day to prove it.”

She laughs, and it’s the sweetest of sounds. Really and truly. But then she’s readjusting herself, sitting up in bed and caressing his face, her palms and fingertips moving over his jaw while her eyes study him, trailing everywhere until she’s looking directly at him.

“For someone who is such a suave flirt on a regular basis, you are damn cheesy in the big moments. But I love you, Killian. I really, really do.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d run through fields of flowers and swim in public pools to prove it too.”

He barks out a laugh before he’s surging forward and capturing Emma’s lips with his, reveling in the little gasp that she makes. It’s something so delicate, but it also makes all of his flesh break out in bumps, a shiver running down his spine and hitting each of his vertebrae with the happiness and ecstasy of it all.

She bites down on his bottom lip before she soothes it with her tongue, and he growls before leaning forward and pushing her back on the mattress, covering her body with his as they move together in a gentle caress. He hasn’t been this happy in years, and he never wants it to stop.

This woman may very well be the love of his life.

This woman is the love of his life.

He doesn’t care if he’s getting ahead of himself. He’s not. He can’t be, not when they’ve known each other for seven years, not when she’s been his best friend for three, not when he’s been in love with her for over a year now, not when he knows.

“Do we really have to go back to the pool?” Emma mutters when they pull back. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips reddened and a bit swollen, and he can feel her chest move against him, the both of them searching for air. “Or can I prove my love for you in here?”

“However would you do that, my love?”

She hums for a moment while her fingers comb through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. “Well, I could fuck your brains out, but that could get messy. So I was kind of thinking that you’d be willing to watch a movie with me that I’m inevitably going to fall asleep watching.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

 “Do I look freshly fucked?” Emma jokes when she comes out of the bathroom, everything just the same as it was before they came up here to talk. Her eyes are still red rimmed, the slightest bit puffy, but she looks like Emma.

She looks happy.

“You look beautiful.”

Her lashes flutter down against her cheeks before she starts messing with the hem of her sweater while pulling up the waistband of her leggings. “Thank you. I’m going to go check on Ada, okay? Why don’t you go down and finish watching whatever cop show you were watching with Neal?”

“Live PD.”

“I didn’t really need to know.”

“And yet I told you anyways.”

She scoffs before shaking her head and walking toward the door the door, opening it and walking out of the room. He’s just about to follow her when he sees the blue velvet box on the floor. Slowly, he picks it up, thumbing at the material before he sits back down on the bed, the mattress soft under him as his heart gets stuck in his throat.

Emma was never supposed to find this.

He was supposed to take her to the coast. They were going to go to dinner, just the two of them like they enjoy doing to have time to themselves, and then he was going to guide her out to the shore and to the lighthouse. It’s pretty touristy, but no one goes in the winter months, the chill too cold. He and Emma have been out there by the water more times than he can count since they moved here, and nowhere else seemed quite right. Really, nowhere.

Maybe he could do it with the kids. Maybe in the backyard with bulb lights strung up in the trees and over the patio. They’ve never been one for big romantic gestures. They’ve always been two people who simply needed and wanted to know that they were loved by the fact that someone was there to hold their hand while waiting on a pregnancy test or to hear about a promotion at work or a dodgy medical report. It’s always been about the little things, the tiny shows of support every day. It’s never been about a bed full of rose petals or dinners that they can’t afford. He can understand the romance of that. He did before he was with Emma. But they’re different. They always have been.

But now he doesn’t know. Now he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to propose or even if he should propose despite the future that he knows they have. They need time to heal. It hasn’t just been a rough two and a half weeks. It’s been a rough three months, and as much as he believes in them, they have some work to do.

Besides, they might not be about the big gestures of romance, but Emma deserves a proposal that’s more than him asking her because she found the ring. She deserves something better, even if he knows they’d be perfectly happy no matter how it happens.

They’re going to be fine. Their lives are getting back on track, and he can’t wait. They may be taking the scenic route, but they’re getting there.

It’s what he’s done all his life regardless. He’s thirty seven years old, and he’s still got so much to figure out and so much to do.

Rising from the bed, he quickly walks into the closet and puts the ring back in his uniform before lifting the chair and taking it back to its rightful place in the corner of the room. He’s not exactly sure what Emma was doing with the chair, but he’ll ask her later.

After he’s gone downstairs to spend some time with Neal.

“You missed the most ridiculous case,” Neal laughs when he walks into the room and settles down on the loveseat instead of the recliner, propping his feet up on the ottoman. “This man had an alligator in the back of his truck that climbed out of the back and got on the highway.”

“Was it in Florida?”

“Obviously. It was insane. He had narcotics with him as well, but that stuff is batshit crazy. I remember a couple of years ago, there was this news article about a man who was attacked by an alligator while he was hiding from the cops. It was insane.”

Killian’s about to say something, the words on the tip of his tongue, but instead he closes his lips and keeps quiet. There’s something off about what Neal just said. It’s another outrageous story that matches up with this one, but Killian remembers that. He remembers because his boss had known the cop in the story. It was some distant connection, like his brother-in-law’s sister’s husband, but he’d still known the man. And if his boss knew about it and talked to him about it, that meant the story couldn’t be older than two years.

How the hell does Neal know a story that was two years old? He shouldn’t have had any access to the news. Maybe he’d read it in his effort to keep up with current events. Why he was reading about wild news in Florida, he has no idea. He’s not sure that it’s a mystery he wants to solve. He might simply be into pop culture more than he is actual news. Killian can’t blame him. The actual news is rather depressing.

Then again, so is reading about some celebrities.

“Ooh, look at the lights, Ada bug,” Emma coos as she walks into the room with Ada on her hip, her hand pointing at the tree. He has never seen a more beautiful sight in his entire life, and he has to swallow the gulp that’s stuck in his throat. “Didn’t your daddy and Henry do such a good job at decorating? I mean, obviously Mommy did all of the work, but we’ll let them have some credit.”

“What about me?”

“And Neal. Neal also helped make everything special for your first Christmas.”

Emma plops down next to him on the sofa, and he wraps his arm around her shoulder, tugging her in closer while his fingers mess with the tips of her hair. It feels good to be able to be affectionate with her again. He doesn’t ever want to give it up.

God, he was a jackass. He thought he was being honorable and doing a good thing, but he was a jackass.

He could hold his girls forever.

“Hello, darling,” he whispers to Ada, reaching over with his free hand to bop her nose, which always makes her dissolve into a fit of giggles. He thinks she rather likes the attention. “Would you like to watch people get arrested in real time?”

“You two are great influences.”

“Never said I was one,” Neal shrugs, a playful smile tugging at his lips even behind the glass he’s holding. “She’s a calm baby. Was Henry like that, Ems?”

“Sometimes, but Ada is almost seven months. They’ve calmed a bit by then if they’re not teething. When they’re newborns, it’s a little more insane. Henry was pretty good, but you were there for a few of the nights. You know how much he could wail.”

“Yeah, that’s true. It’s kind of hard to remember. I guess I blocked it out and just thought of the good memories.”

“That’s probably a good thing. No one wants to think about the wails of a baby too much. He loved his tummy time, though, which is weird because Ada used to hate it. So I don’t know. It really depended on the day and if I had help or not.”

“Yeah,” Neal sighs, looking over at them for a moment, his gaze staying on Emma before he sees it flicker to Killian’s arm around her shoulder for a brief moment. It doesn’t last long before he’s back staring at the television.

“Are you okay, Neal?” Emma questions, straightening her back out.

“I’m fine, Ems. I’m just thinking about all that I missed. You don’t have to say you’re sorry. You couldn’t have changed any of it, and I’m glad I’m here now. I never thought I would be, and this is – this is everything to me.”

“It’s everything to us too,” he promises for both he and Emma, not wanting her to have to find the words when he knows that she’s struggling over her feelings for Neal. He squeezes her arm before he runs his hand up and down her bicep and onto her shoulder, trying to comfort her as much as he can. They’ve both been on emotional rollercoasters today. This morning he’d woken up with a pain in his neck and in his chest before taking Ada for a walk and to the grocery store. He had no idea that by this evening he and Emma would be tentatively working on things, that they might not be as broken.

He can’t imagine all of the thoughts that must have gone through her mind leading up to everything. Hopefully he’ll get a glimpse of them later so that she doesn’t bottle them all up inside.

“Thank you,” Emma whispers, resting her head on his shoulder.

It’s not a problem at all. All he wants is to be able to support her and be there for her.

He should have never stopped.

The next hour is spent watching television and laughing at the ridiculousness of everything that’s on screen. He and Emma have to trade off playing with Ada and keeping her entertained even though she’s mostly happy to move around in her bouncer. It’s one of the lightest nights he’s had since Neal came home, and he’s glad for it as the three of them fall back into old patterns like when they were younger – just with a few differences.

When Henry gets home from ice skating with Avery, they let him talk about how good of a time he had and how funny it was watching Avery’s mum fall on the ice. He’s sure that was bloody painful, but Henry’s eight. Painful things are funny when they’re not happening to him. But eventually they have to put he and Ada to bed. Neal hasn’t quite gotten the practical parts of being a parent down so he usually stays away from nighttime routines, but that works for he and Emma because the moment he closes Henry’s door and Emma closes Ada’s (because she’s actually in her nursery tonight instead of their room), he and Emma walk into their bedroom and shut the door behind them without having to worry about making excuses.

It’s only nine, Ada up a little later from her nap, but it’s still too early for them to be getting away with going to bed.

They’re doing it anyhow.

“So,” Emma starts, reaching up underneath her sweater and pulling her bra off before putting it in the hamper.

“So,” he echoes, unzipping his jeans and tossing them in as well before he heads into the closet and pulls a pair of pajama pants off the shelf, tossing Emma her own pair, “we need to talk.”

“I find when a man tells me that it rarely means something good, and we’ve been saying it a lot.”

“I think it’ll be good,” he shrugs, stepping into his pants. “I think we’ll clear the air, and then we won’t have all of this extra stuff weighing down on us.”

“I like that idea.”

“Thought you would.” He clicks his tongue as he takes the few steps to the bed so that he can sit down at the foot of it while he takes a few deep breaths, trying to regulate himself. This is a bit terrifying. “I’m sorry, Emma. I don’t – you remember how much we struggled when we first got together, right? We had both said it was okay to move on from our pasts, from Neal’s death, but then when we moved on together – ”

“It was hard,” she finishes, tossing her leggings to the side before she curls up in the arm chair. It’s her favorite spot to sit in the room when she’s trying not to be lazy. If she gets in the bed or on the window seat, there’s a pretty good chance she falls asleep, especially recently. Nursing is hard on her, and it nearly always wipes her out. “I felt so guilty sometimes. I loved you, wanted to be with you, and I always thought, you know, Neal would be happy we had each other. But it still sometimes felt wrong.”

“Exactly, love. So imagine that except intensified. I know that you were here, that you had your own feelings on the matter, but, Emma, it was so damn hard being with you when I thought that I didn’t have any right to.”

“How could you think that? I love you. You’re my…you’re my family.”

“Aye, I know, I know,” he mutters, tapping his fingers against his knee while he focuses on his breathing. This is harder to articulate than he thought it would be, and looking at the brokenness on Emma’s face doesn’t help. “I know that. You’re my family. You and the kids are my entire world. I have nothing without you all. I just,” he croaks, tears stinging behind his eyes despite every attempt for them not to, “I felt like I didn’t deserve to be with you, for you to love me when the man you loved first was right there back from the dead. I know that first loves don’t have to be only loves. That’s ridiculous thinking. But you never chose to stop loving Neal. He was taken from you.”

He watches Emma nod her head up and down before she’s crossing her arms over her chest and reaching up to mess with her necklace. Even when she was pissed at him, she didn’t take it off. He always felt such comfort in that even if he was reading too much into it.

“I know, and it’s not fair. It’s not fair that Neal was captured, that he’s been through hell, that our family was split up. It’s not fair, nothing about it, and I have beat myself up over it for eight years. We need to look into therapy, by the way. For, um, Henry. And possibly for me. I think it might be nice to have a professional to talk to because my emotional whiplash is insane.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, love,” he promises, looking up at her and smiling, giving her the constant reassurance that her vulnerability is good thing. “I’m not sure how much Henry will love it, but I have been so worried about him, especially after yesterday. We have no idea what else is happening that he’s keeping from us.”

“I can’t believe that happened. I can’t believe there are moms at that school calling me a whore, let alone saying it in front of their kids. That’s so messed up.”

“It’s fucked up,” he chuckles, not really sure what else to say. He hasn’t stopped fuming about it. He could punch a wall, but he knows not to, to try to channel his anger other places. Usually it’s in his runs. He needs to go running Monday morning. “We’ve gone through enough guilt over everything. We sure as hell don’t need people saying wrong, hurtful things about our family. People get divorced, people break up. Not everyone gets married and stays married to the same person. Not everyone has all of their children with one person. There’s just…there’s so much wrong with all of that, and I hope you didn’t take any of it to heart.”

“I’ve dealt with enough mean moms not to,” she shrugs before reaching down into the basket next to her and pulling out a blanket to wrap around her body. “But, yeah, um, we can talk about therapy later when we can look into it. I don’t – Killian, I understand your mindset. I understand that your mom and Liam raised you to be an honorable guy, that you are one, but I want to know why you couldn’t understand that you’re my family too. You had to have known that us taking a break, that it would kill me. My chest literally felt like I’d been stabbed for days on end.”

His chest feels like he’s been stabbed right now.

“I did. I watched you break down. I watched you sob like I haven’t seen in years, but I felt like I had to. My mind was so confused, so muddled, and I felt like I needed to take a step back to figure out what was happening, to possibly give you and Henry a chance at happiness.”

“My love,” Emma croaks, wiping away the tears that haven’t fallen from her eyes yet, “you make us happy. I don’t know how many times I can say this before you fully get it, but you are my family, our family. You are the only dad Henry has ever known until now. Yeah, he knew about Neal, but he didn’t _know_   him. Now he gets that opportunity, which is so wonderful, but at the end of the day, you’re the one who has always been his dad. And now he gets two. That’s a good thing. That’s not a bad thing.”

She’s right. Of course she’s right. He’s been so confused, so idiotic, and if he had been smart enough to talk to Emma, to talk to Liam, to talk to someone, maybe he could have figured some of that out without causing everyone this much pain.

Never again. He’s not going to let this happen ever again.

Same team.

“You’re right.”

“He can love you both, and while a part of me will always love Neal, I don’t want to be with him. I’ve grown and changed. When we were together, Neal and I, I was young and naïve and craving someone to make me feel loved. I had Ruth and David, but the orphan in me convinced me that I needed some other kind of validation, that I needed someone else to love me. So when this older guy came around, one who was in a uniform and charming and who made me laugh, I felt this instant connection to him.”

“You guys were good together,” he admits, smiling a bit to himself thinking about it.

“We had our moments, but looking back, a lot of our relationship was screwed up. We were both adults, but there was a power imbalance. I wasn’t as sure of myself as I am now. I didn’t know any better. When…when I told Neal that I was pregnant,” she whispers, her voice suddenly quiet even though he knows what happens next, has already heard her say the words today, “he wasn’t happy. I don’t know. It’s, like, it’s almost like he didn’t want the connection with me more than he didn’t want a baby. But I tried to convince myself otherwise, tried to convince myself that it was just shock, but then he wasn’t around as much. He wasn’t really around at all during my pregnancy. He missed Henry’s birth for training when they told him he could come home from it for the birth. I don’t think I ever felt more distant from him than I did then. And for eight years I thought he was dead.”

His heart has been broken several times in his life. His dad leaving was the first, his mum dying the second, his breakups with Tina and Milah third and fourth, but this right here…listening to Emma talk about these secrets she’s hoarded away for years, this might be the worst. She doesn’t deserve any of this. She hasn’t deserved any of the horrible things that have happened to her since the day she was born and left on fire station steps, but most of all, he thinks that she doesn’t deserve for the people she’s trusted with her heart to break it while it’s still in their hands.

He did the same, even if it was temporary. He did the same.

Never again. He’ll keep thinking it until it’s true.  
  
“Emma, why have you never told me this?”

She wipes at her tears again before getting up and quickly crossing the room, plopping down next to him and wrapping her arms around his stomach while her shoulder shake. He can hear her sniffling, and all he knows to do is hold her. She’s opened up her walls enough for him to be the one that gets to comfort her, and it’s not an honor he takes lightly.

He could kill Neal. He won’t, but he could. The bastard went on and on about how devastated he is to have missed Henry’s life when he didn’t even care for him at the beginning. Maybe he’s changed. He’s had a long time to do it. But he can’t imagine what it must be like for her to remember all of this and have to watch him interact with Henry now. Neal has never been a bad guy, but he could be selfish. And this – this is damn selfish.

How could he not have been happy to have a child with Emma? Finding out Emma was pregnant with Ada is one of the great moments of his life, and as much as he tries, as much as he thinks about the circumstances, he can’t understand.

“Because when I got the news that Neal had disappeared, that he had died, I was so devastated. And it’s almost like it wasn’t for me. It was for Henry. He’d never get to know his dad. He’d never do anything like all of the kids he was going to grow up with. So I kind of latched onto what the man told me when he told me Neal died. He told me Neal was a hero, and I convinced myself that if I saw him as this perfect hero, that I could make him be that way for Henry. I could let his dad be a hero. I could let his dad be _his_  hero.”  
  
“Sweetheart – ”

“And then he got this chance, you know, this miracle chance to know the man I’d portrayed to him as a hero, and I’m honestly relieved that Neal is so much better now, that he’s changed. Sometimes he can still be selfish, but he’s good for Henry.”  
  
“He is,” Killian promises, dipping his head down to brush his lips over the crown of her head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you went through all that, that you’ve been hiding it away inside. That’s wrong. That never should have happened.”

“I know that now. I know my worth and what it’s like to be supported. You have been the most supportive person in my life. More than David and Ruth and Mary Margaret. So it was devastating to me when I didn’t have that support anymore.”

“It’s not going to happen again. I can assure you. I won’t be such a dumb jackass, as you say.”

He hears her chuckle, the sound the slightest bit watery, before she tilts her head up to look at him, the smallest, softest smile gracing her lips. He’s not sure if her eyes have ever looked this green. “I believe I said you were insufferable.”

“Well that too,” he sighs before dipping his head and kissing the corner of her lips. “I’m dumb and insufferable, and I promise to support you for the rest of my life. I will never stop fighting for us.”

They’re not wedding vows. The ring is still in his uniform pocket, the papers nonexistent at the courthouse, and the question still unasked, but they might as well be. He’s in this for the long haul, and Emma is right beside him, even when their steps might not exactly match up.

Maybe especially then.

 


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't love an actual, happy chapter? ❤️

“Do you want me to take you to work on the way to the airport?”

She looks up from where she’s chopping up chicken for dinner later to see Neal sitting on a barstool fiddling away with his phone, brows creased and lines on his forehead bunching together. It must be a work thing. That’s usually how he looks when it’s about work, especially because she doesn’t think he really has a lot of friends here. Well, he’s got his support group friends and a few guys that he likes to go have drinks with. And she’s pretty sure he’s friends with some people who share the same therapist as him, but she literally has no idea how that would work. It’s easier not to ask too many questions with Neal, though. He’s never been one for sharing too much, and she knows when to prod and when not to.

Most of the time.

So maybe he does have friends. She should probably ask him about his friends, maybe offer to have them over for dinner one day after the holidays.

“Neal,” she asks, tapping her knife against the cutting board until he looks up, his face immediately relaxing, “did you hear me?”

“Were you talking?”

“I was,” she laughs, scooping the chicken into a Tupperware container. “I asked if you want me to take you to work. You can’t use my car because I need it, so I figured you need a ride. Of course, Killian can take you too. You should look into getting a car sometime soon, though. I don’t know how long we’re going to be able to function getting around with our different schedules and your therapy, especially because I go back to work soon. And riding the bus isn’t super convenient, so just a thought.”

Neal hums before sliding his phone in his pocket. “I’ll ride with Killian today. I’ve got therapy after work, but I’ll take the bus there since I know everyone will be busy.”

“If you’re sure. But really, let’s go look for you something after the new year.”

“What happened to my truck? And the bug? We don’t have either of those anymore? They’re not in storage or something?”

“I, uh, sold them,” she admits, picking up the container of chicken and moving to put it in the fridge before she walking back to the island and twisting the knob for the sink so that she can wash her hands. “Your truck was worth money when I needed money, and the bug was not safe for kids. When we got here and I found out I was pregnant with Ada, Killian and I went and found me a mid-sized SUV so that, you know, I wasn’t going to have to go full on minivan.”

He clicks his tongue at that before a soft smile forms on his face. “You are not a minivan type of mom.”

“No, I’m not,” she agrees, wiping her hands off on a towel.” But I am the mom to a mini little munchkin who is currently running into the wall with her bouncer right not. Ada,” she chuckles, walking over to her kid and scooping her out of the bouncer while she gurgles something that is definitely not a word, “you are going to knock things over, my love. You’re going to be a wild child, aren’t you? You definitely can’t start crawling. I know you’re close, but not when you’re a menace.”

“I know I keep asking, but how old is she again?” Neal asks while she hears both Henry and Killian walking around upstairs. Every single person in this house is going to be late to where they’re going today if they don’t hurry. She absolutely cannot wait until her life isn’t chaotic.

That may never happen.

“Seven months.”

“She’s small.”

“She’s on the tinier side, but she’s in normal range,” she sighs as she runs her hand over Ada’s head, brushing her hair back a bit. It’s still thin, but she can see the slightest bit of curl at the ends. “Can you do me a favor and go tell Henry and Killian to hurry up?”

Neal bows his head and mock salutes before he’s turning and quickly running up the stairs while she balances Ada on her hip and moves around to make sure that Henry will be ready to put his coat and shoes on before they get in the car. It’s kind of a crazy day with Liam and Belle coming in from London. Henry’s on Christmas break now, so while she’d think that it’d be easier not having to get him ready for school, she can’t leave him here alone so she’s always wrangling him to go places. He may act mature sometimes, but he’s eight. She’s pretty sure that’s illegal.

She should probably know that.

So she’s got Henry and Ada both home with her, Neal and Killian going to work and therapy and whatever else it is they do, and Liam and Belle coming to stay for a week, even if they’re sleeping in a hotel. It’s all a little insane. Plus she’s _finally_  going back to work in two weeks, and that’s kind of stressing her out since there’s a lot to catch up on and she’s not exactly in love with Ada’s daycare.

And Christmas.

Christmas is also a little stressful with her family spending time here as well, but she’s determined to make it the best year for everyone.

For her too. She doesn’t tend to think she’s selfish, but she’s been through some shit this year. She deserves nice things, even if those nice things are she and Killian getting a quiet, calm morning to themselves.

“Mom,” Henry groans, running down the stairs in a hoodie and what she’s pretty sure are pajama pants, “I can’t find my pants.”

“You know what, kid,” she sighs, walking toward him and messing with his hair to make it look like less of a disaster, “it doesn’t matter. I don’t think your aunt and uncle are going to care if you’re looking a little messy.”

“Are they here yet?” he asks excitedly, his eyes lighting up as he bounces a bit up and down. Henry loves Liam quite possibly more than he loves anyone, and he’s been counting down his arrival since they told him about it.

“They are going to land any minute now.”

“Do you think they brought me presents?”

“I think so, but you absolutely cannot ask for them when we see them. You have to wait.”

“But – ”

“Nope.”

“Mom.”

“Take your pajama covered legs and go eat some of the fruit that’s on the counter.”

“Do we have poptarts?”

“No,” she lies, thinking of the box in the cabinet behind the plates, “we don’t. You’re having fruit.”

Henry groans before she swears he mumbles something about her being too much like Killian in making him eat healthy. It’s a constant battle. He’s a good kid, but sometimes the call for sugar is too much.

She can’t believe he and Killian have been up there this entire time and Killian didn’t manage to get him in a pair of jeans.

Killian and Neal come down the stairs almost simultaneously, Killian trailing just behind Neal while he messes with the cuffs on his shirt underneath his suit jacket. By the time she gets used to having them both in the house, Neal will probably be able to get his own apartment. They haven’t talked about that. Hell, they’re just now talking about him getting a car, but she figures it has to happen eventually once he has some money and is feeling more stable. He can’t live with them forever. She’s all about her modern family or whatever, but she doesn’t want to live with her ex-husband for the next decade. She’s more than happy to help him, to let him get to know Henry, to let her get to know him again, but there’s going to be a point when he can’t live here anymore.

It’s only been four months, and he’s going through a lot. She really doesn’t mind right now. He can take his time.

But they’ll get there. Life has been insane, more than insane really, and she thinks everything is beginning to settle down again. She and Killian are together again, and even though it’s only been twelve days and she’s still a little hurt over everything, it’s going well. They’re sleeping in the same room again, sleeping together again, but mostly they’re talking. They’ve most likely talked until their faces turned blue, sometimes arguing over what’s been going on, but she’ll take the arguments over the nothing any day of the week.

She’s had two big loves in her life, and neither of them have been perfect. Neal, even with all of their issues that she’s coming to understand now, was someone who she really did love. She loved him, thought the world of him, but they’re not going to work out. It probably would have happened eventually, even without the tragedy of their story. She just didn’t realize it at the time. He’s not a bad guy, not really, but he’s not right for her. Maybe at the time but not anymore. She thinks what they have going for them, this friendship of sorts, is going to be wonderful.

Killian’s not without his issues as well, but she doesn’t like to think of it as a comparison. That’s what everyone else has been doing to her. They’ve made it a comparison, a contest between the two of them, and it’s not that. It’s simply that for who she is, for how she’s grown through the absolute shitstorm that has been parts of her life, Killian matches up well with her. He’s been her best friend for a long time, and he understands her. He understands when she needs comforting and when she needs to be left alone. He understands how she ticks, how she thinks about things. He understands her.

She understands him.

They’re far from perfect, but she loves him. Honestly and truly she does. Even when he’s being a dumbass and thinking that she needed time to think, she loves him. She understands why he did that now that they’ve talked through things, now that she’s had time to think without her heart being broken. Killian feels things more deeply than most people she knows, maybe more than anybody she knows, and even when he tries to disguise it, his emotions are always right there on his sleeve. Sometimes she’s the only one allowed to see them.

She’s thankful for that.

They’re good, the two of them, and the constant constriction of her heart being squeezed in by her ribcage is getting back to the normal as the two of them get back to them and to being a team while raising their children.

Her life hasn’t been easy, but she’s happy.

She’s finally happy again.

And he looks damn good in that blue suit. That doesn’t even matter, but she’s allowed to point these things out. She’s allowed to appreciate him. She should.

“I am running so late,” Killian mumbles rushing right by her and into the kitchen to grab a travel mug of coffee from the pot Neal made. “Neal, can you go crank up the car? It’s going to take awhile to defrost.”

“Sure thing,” Neal nods, ruffling Henry’s hair, which is obviously something he’s never going to learn not to do with Henry, and waving to she and Ada who gurgles right back at him before he’s grabbing his coat and heading outside.

“Bye, Henry,” Killian quickly hums, twisting his mug’s top on and raising his hand so Henry can give him a high five, before he’s walking over to her, kissing Ada’s head, and then mumbling about being late again as he pulls on his coat and walks out the door, the wood slamming behind him.

She knows that being late is his biggest pet peeve and that it stresses him, but she kind of can’t believe he just forgot to tell her goodbye. It’s not that big of a deal, but if he’s that frazzled now, he’s going to be a mess for the rest of the day, even knowing that Liam is going to be here waiting for him when he gets home. Or that might be part of the reason he’s frazzled. Liam is his best friend, and she knows that he’s anxious to see him. He’s been Killian’s support system through all of this like David has been hers.

They’ve got some good older brothers.

“You do too,” she says out loud to Ada, stepping out of the kitchen and into the hallway so that she can lock the front door behind Killian only for the door to swing open and for Killian to come jogging back into the house and quickly tugs her into a kiss, capturing her lips with the intensity of a man starved even if they’re simply parting ways for a few hours. She’s not going to complain. She loves him and loves that they’re back to this.

She loves that he remembered even if it’s the smallest thing and he’s running late.

She loves how he kisses her.

“I love you,” he whispers in her ear, nuzzling her neck a bit while he places a kiss just below her lobe. She thinks she might melt every time he does that. And when he playfully squeezes her ass like he’s doing right now. She could melt at that too. “Your ass looks fantastic in these jeans, by the way. I’d like to wax a little more poetic on that later, but I’ve got to go to work.”

She snickers and turns her head to quickly brush her lips over his two times. “I love you, and I am willing to take you up on that offer later if I can get you away from your brother. Your ass looks good in your pants too.”

“Good,” he smiles, leaning back before dipping his head down to kiss Ada’s forehead. “Goodbye, my little love. Daddy will be home later.”

He kisses her cheek again before walking out the door, slamming it closed behind him as he most likely runs to the car. She’s just glad it’s not snowing. He’d lose his mind or something trying to drive through it.

“Alright, Henry,” she yells as she turns the lock, “we’re leaving for the airport in fifteen minutes whether you have that food in your stomach or not.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

“Are you nervous, lad?” Killian asks Henry as the plane begins to taxi so that they can take off.

“No. Why would I be scared of a plane?”

“Some people are. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Look at your mum. She’s positively green.”

“That’s not funny,” she groans while her stomach flips again and again, the nausea threating to boil over. She’s been feeling it for two or three days now, but she hasn’t said anything to Killian. She should have, but she’s been a little scared that it was just a bug or something and not what she absolutely hopes that it is after trying for so long. “I’m really not scared.”

“She’s not green,” Henry points out. “How would she turn green?”

“Sometimes when someone is green, it means that they’re sick,” Killian explains to Henry while he places his hand on her leg, squeezing a bit before leaving it there, the slight weight a comfort. “It’s kind of like when you were sick right before school finished and your skin was a bit of a different color.”

Henry hums next to her before leaning over as much as he can with his seatbelt holding him back to look at her face, his eyes scanning hers closely while she presses her lips together in a smile, attempting to look as normal as possible when her body is still reeling.

“I think you look pretty, Momma.”

“Thank you, baby.”

“But your hair does look funny.”

She sniffles at that, trying not to let her laugh get too loud, while Killian can barely contain himself next to her. She loves Henry with everything in her, but damn it, kids tell it like it is. Last week he told Killian that his ears looked like elf ears, and they’d turned as red as her lipstick. He does have elf ears, but she finds them rather charming. Henry, not so much. And now he apparently is taking issue with her hair. She knows that it’s not looking fantastic with the natural curls poking out of her ponytail, but she’s miserable and on an eight-hour plane ride.

This is going to be fantastic.

“Sit back and watch us fly in the air, you crazy kid.”

“Am I going to fly out of my seat?”

“If you take your seatbelt off when you’re not supposed to.”

She rolls her eyes at Killian before reaching to cover her hand over his, resting it on the warmth before she holds her free hand out to hold Henry’s, letting him immediately intertwine his fingers with hers. “You won’t really. It’s just like being in a car except that when the pilot says it’s okay, we can get up to stretch our legs or go to the bathroom.”

“I can’t do that in the car.”

“Exactly,” she laughs, squeezing his hand as the engine starts getting louder and the pavement outside blurs by more quickly. She can’t look, not without throwing up, so she has to focus on chewing her gum and on the seat in front of her.

“Watch as we take off, Henry,” Killian starts, taking over for her and leaning over her body to point out the window. “We’re about to be flying.”

It’s possibly the worst take off of any flight she’s ever been on, but she’s sure that no one else on the plane notices. She, however, is about two seconds from vomiting the entire time, but she doesn’t have anywhere to vomit. None of their seats have any bags, and it’s not like she can get up. It’s going to be minutes before even the flight attendants start moving around.

She’s going to throw up on her boyfriend. That’s what’s going to happen. She’s going to throw up on her boyfriend. Henry isn’t an option, and her feet aren’t an option either. This is the only pair of shoes that she has that are not in her luggage down below.

“Killian,” she whispers, trying to push down the nausea and the rolling waves in her stomach. Her intestines very well may be twisting together and then separating. It’s a lot.

“Yeah, love?”

“I need,” she gulps, trying not to move her lips or her body, “something to throw up in.”

She can’t see his eyes blow wide, but she knows that the blue is frantic and that he’s taken aback. She can imagine it exactly as it happens, can practically hear the opening and closing of his mouth, but she will not move.

She can’t.

“Emma, there’s not anything here unless you want to vomit in Henry’s bag of pretzels.”

She doesn’t, but she has to.

The next ten minutes of her life are some of the most painful, gross, and overall embarrassing minutes of her life. She’s grossed out Henry, who may as well be pressed into the window so hard that he’s going to fall out of the plane, and she’s grossed out every person around them and likely the flight attendants who bring her bags and the trashcan once they realize what’s happening. The only person who isn’t disgusted by her is Killian, and she knows that’s only because he is so freaking worried that he doesn’t have time to think about all of this.

It’d probably be ease some of his fears if she told him she thinks she’s pregnant, but then that would create a whole other host of problems. And she’s not going to tell her boyfriend she’s pregnant on a plane full of strangers who are watching her vomit while her son sits next to her. She doesn’t want Henry to know until she’s sure and until she’s sure that the baby will be okay. She has hope, but so does every mom.

Now is not the time. She’ll tell Killian when they get to their hotel. They’re in the same room as Henry, but she’ll figure it out.

“Did you pack one of those mini bottles of mouthwash?” she asks him when they’ve been in the air for thirty minutes and with the help of some severally underpaid attendants they’ve gotten all of her bags thrown away and everything feeling a bit more normal again.

“Aye, in my bag. Do you need it?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you done throwing up, Momma?”

“I hope so,” she tells Henry, twisting her head to the side to tightly smile at Henry while Killian gets up to get his bag, opening it up in the aisle to find his mouthwash. “I think my body just didn’t react well to flying. I must not have the same flying superpowers that you and Daddy have.”

“Must not. Can I get more pretzels?”

Eight agonizing hours later they’ve landed, and she feels about as clammy and gross as humanly possible, so after changing clothes, washing her face in the bathroom, and then going through customs, they’re greeted by the smiling faces of Liam and Belle who are holding up a poster with colorful words spelling out “Young Master Henry.” It’s the most ridiculous thing in the world, but Liam and Killian call him that enough that it’s a thing now.

“Uncle Liam,” Henry squeals, running the few feet toward Liam with his Spiderman backpack bouncing on his back until he’s literally jumping into Liam’s arms and being lifted up in the air to be spun around.

“Master Henry,” Liam starts, using an extra pompous accent to talk to Henry while he spins him around. “I’m so glad to see that you’ve traveled her safely in your flying car. Your next ride awaits you outside.”

“It’s a plane. It’s better than a car because you can pee in it.”

Liam barks out a laugh at that while Belle tries to stifle hers, and she can do nothing back shake her head back and forth while she envelops Belle in a hug, wrapping her arms around her waist for a minute.

“Hi, darling,” Belle greets, her accent mixing in with everyone else here. This is her first time out of the country, and it’s a little overwhelming. The constant nausea doesn’t help. But she’s excited to be here. Plus they have Liam and Belle to help guide them. And the trip isn’t really about sightseeing. It’s about seeing family. “How was the flight?”

“It was a flight,” she says dryly, pulling back and smiling up at her, kind of wishing that her hair was as shiny and straight as the deep brown of Belle’s hair.  “How are you?”

“I’m just perfect, but I need to hug my best friend, Henry.”

“Avery is my best friend,” Henry corrects, but Liam hands him off to Belle anyways. She’s not tall, and Henry’s almost seven-year-old frame overwhelms her.

“You can have more than one,” Liam laughs before he’s wrapping her in a hug, his body overwhelming her as he cups the back of her head. He hugs just like David. It must be a big brother thing. Maybe Henry will do that with his sibling. They need to buy a test. “Hello, little birdie.”

“Hi, big Jones.”

“Oi, Swan,” Killian scoffs from behind her, “you cannot call him that.”

“So insecure in his manhood, the little one,” Liam jokes, kissing the top of her head before pulling back. “Alright, my brood, Belle and I are going to take you out to dinner and then to the flat, okay?”

“Actually, can you take us home or to the hotel?” Killian suggests, placing his hand on the small of her back so that she can feel the heat and sureness of him. “Emma had a bit of a rough flight. She might have a bit of a bug, so I think she may want to shower.”

“You alright, lass?” Liam asks, his brows raising in a way that’s so much like Killian that she’ll never quite be over it.

“I’m fine,” she promises, resting her head on Killian’s shoulder. “Let’s just get takeout and go to your apartment, okay?”

She showers the moment they get back to the apartment… or flat as Liam corrects, leaving everyone else to eat their tai food, and even as the nausea persists, she feels a thousand times better than she did on the plane. Seriously. She’s not sure if she’s ever felt that gross, even when she was pregnant with Henry. But she was younger then and maybe things are just different. Plus she wasn’t on a plane then.

She’s not eating the tai food, though. That’s not happening at all.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door, and she walks over to twist the lock, pulling the door open and looking to see Killian standing outside with his hand still resting on the frame.

“Hi.”

“Are you creeping on me in the bathroom for a reason, babe?”

He hums before opening the door a bit and stepping inside, shutting them into the small room that’s still filled with steam on the mirror. She hasn’t looked at herself, but she imagines that her hair is tangled and that she’s got mascara smudged all down her cheeks. She really doesn’t care.

“I’m simply checking on you.” He takes a step forward and places his hands on her hips, his thumbs reaching up under her t-shirt to rub into the skin. It’s soothing, and with how exhausted she is, it could make her fall asleep. Instead she leans into Killian and buries her face in his shoulder, knowing that it’s going to get stained from her face. At least his shirt is black. “Are you okay? Feeling better?”

“A little.”

He hums again before one of his hands moves from her hip up her back, the warmth of his body trickling against every inch of her skin, enveloping her in a comfort she hasn’t felt all day. It only gets better when she feels his mouth against her neck, a contrast of the softness of his lips and the slight harshness of his beard.

“Are you pregnant?”

She doesn’t know why she’s taken aback by it, but she is. Of course Killian knows. How could he not? He knows more about pregnancy than she does. He’s been looking everything up since they decided to officially start trying last year. It’s been a bit rough, which is probably why she’s a little hesitant to take a test. She knows. There’s not much doubt, but it’s still terrifying. The last time she told someone she was pregnant, it didn’t go over well. And then Neal died and…the last time she had a baby with someone, it wasn’t great, and even though she trusts Killian, even though they’ve been actively trying for this, she’s still scared that maybe it’ll be a repeat of everything in the past. It’s an unreasonable, unrealistic fear, but it’s there.

She’d love this kid as much as she loves Henry regardless.

She wants this kid so damn badly.

“I don’t know.”

“But you think so?” he asks, his lips so close to her ear that she can feel the vibrations of every word.

“I have to be,” she admits, the weight on her shoulders lightening a bit. “I’m late, I’m tired, I can’t stop vomiting, and my boobs feel like freaking water balloons.”

He doesn’t say anything for far too long, the seconds ticking by as he continues to rub up and down her back while she simply holds onto him, her anchor when she feels like everything can be taken away by a gust of wind.

“So it’s not a stomach bug?”

“Not a stomach bug. I have to take a test, but I’d bet the house on it.”

“I’d take that bet.” He pulls his head away from her neck and moves his hands, all of his warmth leaving until he’s cupping her cheeks and running his thumbs under her eyes while she looks up at him, the blue of his eyes watery and still ridiculously beautiful. “We made a baby.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “we did.”

“I love you and the bug.”

“The bug?” she asks, tilting her head up and pressing up on her toes while her arms move up his sides to finally land around his neck.

“Well, I don’t know. It’s kind of cute. It’s not a stomach bug like everyone in the den thinks or everyone on the plane, but we could still call it a bug.”

“So you’re equating this almost sure thing of a baby, your own flesh and blood, to a stomach bug?”

“Aye, I’m a wonderful father.”

She can’t help herself to lean forward and quickly brush her lips over his, featherlight touches that only make her feel better about all of this. He’s happy. He’s happy that this is happening. She can see it in the smile on his face and hear it in his voice.

She’s happy too.

“That you already are,” she promises, thinking of Henry and how Killian has been a dad for much longer than their little bug has been into existence. “And I love you too. Now let’s go lie to your family and our kid about all of this and act like we were totally just making out in the bathroom or something.”

He moves his brows across his forehead until one of them lands somewhere near his hairline while his entire face crinkles in a smirk. “Or we could actually make out, and it’ll only be half a lie.”

“I’ve been vomiting all day.”

“We’ll strive to make out tomorrow.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

 “Momma,” Henry whines, his feet bouncing up and down as she tries to keep him still while also holding Ada on her hip. She should have brought in the bjorn, but she honestly didn’t think they’d be standing her for this long, especially since they did not leave the house in fifteen minutes.

It was more like thirty.

Forty.

“Where are they?”

“They are almost here. You have to be patient.”

“I am, but you said that they would be here when I got here.”

She sighs, frustration beginning to build up. She knows that Henry’s excited and anxious to see Liam and Belle. It’s all he’s been talking about for a week, but damn has he forgotten all of his manners and his patience. She should have brought him one of his books to read.

“Do you remember when we went to London to visit them?”

“Yeah, you threw up on the plane. That was funny.”

“You’re gross,” she laughs, tugging him into her side while Ada grabs at her sweater just over her boobs. “But do you remember how long it took for those people to check our bags while they asked us questions?”

“It took _forever_.”

“It did, and that’s what Liam and Belle are doing right now.”

“Ada is lucky that she didn’t have to wait there with us.”

Technically she did, but that’s a story for another time.

“You hear that, Ada bug? Your brother is looking out for you by telling you not to go through customs. I bet he’ll hold your hand when you get to fly for the first time too.”

She lets out this sound that is somewhere between a gurgle, a laugh, and a scream, and Emma can do nothing but lift her and adjust her over her shoulder so that she immediately starts yanking on her hair despite it being pulled up.

“When is Ada going to fly?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we’ll go on a vacation next summer after you get out of school.”

“Where?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Australia.”

“What?” she laughs, looking down at Henry as his eyes still glance out amongst the crowd, looking for Liam. He loves Belle, but she knows that he’s looking for Liam. If she and Killian were put up against Liam for who Henry loves the most, they wouldn’t have a chance. And she likes to think she’s got it good with her kid.

“Australia. I want to see the giant bugs.”

“Ask your daddy about that one, kid,” she sighs. “I am not going somewhere to see giant bugs unless it’s the zoo and they’re in a case.”

“They don’t hurt, unless you get bit by the poisonous ones.”

“Did we learn this from TV or a book?”

“National Geographic. I got thirsty last night and went downstairs to get some water and Dad was up talking on the phone.”

“At what time?”

“I don’t know, but he hung up and we watched a show about Australia.”

She’s about to say something about how he doesn’t need to be watching TV past bedtime, but then she sees a familiar crop of curly dark hair and startlingly familiar blue eyes.

“I think I see – ”

“Uncle Liam,” he shouts, running out from under her arm and the few feet until he’s jumping into Liam’s arms, the man only stumbling back a bit as he catches him while also balancing everything he was holding. It’s been since Ada’s birth since they’ve seen each other, and that’s far too long for how much they love each other.

She can’t wait to see Killian tackle Liam later. Maybe not literally, but it’ll happen.

“Alright, munchkin,” she sighs to Ada who is still tugging at her hair, eyes moving around at all of the excitement, “let’s go see the people who are about to smother you with love.”

“Oh, I’m so happy to see you,” Belle laughs, quickly walking past Liam and Henry to get to her, wrapping her in a side hug so that she doesn’t physically smother Ada. “And she’s so big, oh my goodness. You’re not supposed to be this big.”

“You want to let your aunt Belle hold you?” she asks Ada, brushing back her hair while she tries to judge how wary Ada is of her.

“I promise I don’t bite, darling,” Belle whispers, running her fingers up and down Ada’s arm until she starts giggling, her laugh like a little scream. Emma takes that as a good sign as she hands Ada over and let’s Belle hold her for a moment.

As long as laughter is the only screaming that’s happening, they’re good to go.

“Hi,” she waves to Liam.

“One moment, Birdie, and I’ll hug you. I’ve got to put this strapping young lad down first.”

“I thought you said I was cool.”

“Strapping is a cooler way to say cool.”

“Cool.”

If they say cool one more time, they’re going to be Jake Peralta.

But Liam puts Henry down, his hair all askew from being moved around, and then he wraps her in one of the tights hugs she’s ever felt, cupping her head to pull her in closer.

He’s so much like David it’s ridiculous.

“I’m so happy to see you and to see that smile on your face. I’m sorry that my brother is an idiot who thought that he was doing the right thing by stepping away from you. Most dumbass decision he’s ever made.”

She nods into his chest before pulling back and smiling at him even as water pools in her eyes. She loves Liam a hell of a lot too. “I completely agree, but I’m sure you have plans to chew his head off later now that you can see him in person.”

“I have an itemized list.”

“Of course you do.”

It’s a bit of a mess getting everyone in the car, especially with luggage and kids and the busyness of the airport during the holiday season, but eventually everyone is strapped in and she’s driving out of the congestion and back to the house, only stopping to let Liam and Belle get some coffee and something to eat that’s not out of the kitchen at home. They’re going to be subjected to she and Killian cooking for an entire week, and while she thinks they’re pretty good, she doesn’t want to force others into it completely. By the time they get home, it’s already past lunchtime, so while Liam and Belle settle down in the living room with Henry as she’s sure he bugs them about presents, she takes Ada upstairs and undresses so she can feed her.

“I’m exhausted, bug,” she sighs, leaning back against the bed but making sure not to move too much as Ada looks up at her, the green in her eyes shining through as she looks up at her. “You’re exhausting, your brother is exhausting, and we have so many people in this house that I have a feeling that I’m going to be faking some of your feedings just so I can leave the room.”

Ada doesn’t say anything back, obviously, so Emma continues to brush her tufts of hair back while she looks over toward the window, midday light shining through the window over the seat. She needs to fix those pillows up.

“I love our family. I do. But your mommy needs a break. I think Daddy and I need to go on vacation together. How do you feel about spending your first Christmas without your parents?” Ada bites down, hard, and she nearly cries at the pain that it causes her. Breastfeeding is bonding and a way to help provide for you child, but damn, isn’t there anything about childbirth that’s not painful? “You’re lucky you’re cute, kid. I mean, I’m a little biased, but I think you’re one of the two cutest kids in the world. I’d never leave you for Christmas either. We’re going to have a good one. All of our family is going to be here, and you’re going to get lots of gifts that you won’t fully get.”

Honestly, with Henry she was alone all of the time, so the full on conversations were pretty frequent. They happened every day. She’d tell him about groceries that needed to be bought or about her disagreements with a plot in a television show. She’d tell him when she missed Neal or when she was having a really good day. She told Henry everything, and even though she’s not always alone with Ada now, she does the same thing. She knows that it helps their development, but it comforts her to be able to talk to this little human being who relies on her for life and comfort and love. She obviously doesn’t remember her life as a baby, but she knows that she didn’t get this kind of love.

All she wants in life is for her kids to get all of the love she didn’t.

There’s a knock on their door, and after she tells whoever it is that she’s breastfeeding but that they can come in, Belle wanders in with a timid smile on her face before she comes to sit on the bed, the mattress only moving the slightest bit underneath her.

“She is so much more precious in person, Emma.”

“Thank you. I hate that we can’t see each other more often.”

“I know, I know,” Belle sighs, reaching over to tap her fingers against Ada’s arm, Ada’s eyes moving to look for Belle. “If we could somehow relocate my family or yours, that would be just wonderful. I miss you all far too much.”

“The same here. Did you see Henry at the airport? Killian’s going to be so much worse when he gets home. I’m surprised he isn’t coming home on his lunchbreak to see you guys.”  
  
“That’s because he’ll need more than an hour to talk to Liam. I’ve never seen siblings that close.”

“They’re definitely special, but enough about then. Tell me what’s new with you. I’m so sorry I’ve lost touch over the past few weeks. It’s been – ”

“Insane,” Belle finishes for her. “Your life has been insane. I can’t even imagine. Liam has told me a little that Killian has said, and I am so dang impressed by you and your strength.”

Her cheeks flush. She’s never been great at accepting compliments, but especially when she doesn’t feel like she deserves it.

“It’s been hard. I honestly think the emotional turmoil has been about the same as when I was told Neal died. And it doesn’t help that both times I’ve been through things like this, I’m still extra hormonal from giving birth. I think – if Killian hadn’t gotten his head out of his ass and started talking to me when he did, I might have really gone crazy.”

“I still can’t believe he tried to break up with you.”

“I can. It’s Killian. He’s this honorable man who doesn’t believe that he deserves the good things that happen to him. He puts everyone above himself, even when his plans backfire. And just the…the guilt has been hard on both of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Belle tells her, reaching her hand over to squeeze Emma’s shoulder while Ada finishes eating, a little burp emanating from her as Emma sits her up on her stomach. “But I’m glad you’re a bit better now, especially in time for the holidays. I’m so excited to be here with you.”

“Me too. Now seriously, lady. Tell me about your life. How’s the library now that you guys got that donation?”

“It’s good. I mean, it’s wonderful. I love my job, even with all of the ridiculous people who come in. But I’m in the process of starting a new after school care reading program. It’s a bit much because of all the paperwork that I have to do, but it’s coming along.”

She twists from her spot and presses her lips into a smile while she plops Ada down in between the two of them. “I’m, like, ninety percent sure that you’re secretly a superhero.”

“Well, I do own a pair of glasses that obviously hide my secret identity.”

“I knew it,” she laughs, adjusting her sweater and tugging up her jeans. “Seriously, though, I’m proud of you. You and Liam are going to take over London…or at least increase the literacy rates and then fix all of issues with shipping or whatever logistics Liam does. I don’t ask because it’s so damn boring when he gets into it.”

“Trust me, I know.”

She and Belle hide away in her room for the next hour, catching up on absolutely everything she can think of. They’re in the middle of talking about the new Red Rising series when there’s a loud bang downstairs that has both of them raising their eyebrows. With a shake of her head, she scoops Ada up and walks downstairs with Belle to find Liam and Henry sweeping up glass from a lamp that they knocked over when they were very obviously building a pillow fort in the living room.

“You are forty three years old, babe.”

“You’re never too old for a pillow fort.”

Liam’s right. You’re not. Well, they all are except for Henry, but they do have Henry and Ada who are definitely not too old for a pillow fort. So even though she knows that it’ll drive Killian absolutely up the wall when he gets home to see their carefully cleaned (all Killian as he prepped for his family to fly in) living room filled with all of the blankets and pillows in the house, they spend their day making the best fort possible. Henry loves it and hams it up for Liam, and she feels this absolute lightness in her heart that she hasn’t felt in weeks.

Things are so damn good now.

They get even better when Killian walks in the door after work. She can’t even greet him before Henry is running up to him and tackling him, telling him all about how he just has to see the fort they’ve been building and how it even has snacks.

(She has no idea when he got snacks to hide in there.)

Killian flashes her a confused smile, his brow raised, and she smiles at him as she watches him walk the few feet through the archway and into the living room where Liam is casually sitting propped up against the couch with this smirk on his face that is obviously a part of the Jones DNA. She both hopes and doesn’t hope that Ada is going to develop one.

“Hello, little brother.”

“It’s younger, you ponce,” Killian laughs, walking toward Liam and grabbing his hand to pull him up off the ground so that they can wrap their arms around each other in what has to be the tightest embrace she’s ever seen.

She can feel the tears stinging behind her eyes, a sob catching in her throat as she furiously blinks to try to keep herself together. She knows that Belle is doing the same thing. Liam isn’t without his own set of issues. He’s far too protective and a little judgmental at times, but it’s because he loves Killian so damn much. They’ve been through so much together, fought through so much, and even though she knows that she and David have a close bond, it’s nothing like this.

All she wants is for Killian to be happy, and she’s glad that he is.

When they pull back from each other, Killian immediately moves to hug Belle, smothering her a little less, before he’s coming over to greet she and Ada. It’s so different than this morning and yet so similar as Killian slants his lips over hers in a kiss that’s a bit deeper than their usual greeting.

Not that she’s complaining.

The rest of the evening the house is full of the gentle roar of conversation and of laughter as everyone catches up and entertains all of Henry’s stories and suggestions. He’s definitely loving all of the attention, and after Neal texts to say that he’s going out to dinner with one of his support group friends, they all decide that a formal dinner at the dining room table is unnecessary when they can have pizza under Henry’s magnificent fort with the dull glow of Christmas lights reflecting through the sheets.

Even after Liam and Belle excuse themselves early to go to their hotel, taking a cab instead of having one of them drive them there, the four of them stay under the fort. It’s going to kill Killian’s back, but she doesn’t think he minds as he reads one of the Nancy Drew books to Henry. She’s not sure which one in the series they’re on now, but Henry is absolutely in love with them and is always trying to figure out who committed the crime before they’re even a quarter of the way into the story. She knows that they’re a little on the mature side, but Killian always skims ahead to make sure things are okay first.

Ada lets out a loud gurgle when Killian is in the middle of a sentence, and it stuns them into silence as she stretches out over Emma to claw at Killian’s face, grabbing onto his lips and tugging.

“Ada, my love, I know Daddy talks a lot, but I don’t think that’s any reason for you to try to rip my lips off.”

She giggles at that, as if she knows what Killian is saying, and until Henry falls asleep, Killian multitasks by trying to read to one kid while the other adamantly refuses to let him. It’s complicated, but it’s nothing they’re not used to.

She’s glad for it.

“I don’t want to move him,” she whispers to Killian as Henry sleeps on the pillows next to her, his body curled into a small ball while she’s wrapped around Killian’s waist with her right leg stuck between his thighs, Ada sleeping on top of his chest.

“He’s eight. Sleeping on the floor won’t kill him, so I say that we let him.”

“Do we have to sleep here with him?”

Killian hums next to her, and she can feel his arm move underneath her head before his hand starts tugging on her hair. “I won’t be able to move until the new year, so most likely not. Plus, we’ve got to get our little lady into her crib.”

“True.” She cranes her neck up to quickly brush her lips against his jaw. “Are you happy that Liam and Belle are here?”

“Beyond. I don’t – I don’t have the words. I feel like we’re finally getting back on track.”

“You still feel like that even though we’re going to have to clean this up in the morning?”

“Swan, believe it or not, I’m beyond thrilled that there’s a mess in this living room. You and Henry and all of us have so much going on right now and in the future and I…it’s nice to have little moments like this.”

She reaches up to caress his face, running her fingers over his beard as the familiar tears sting behind her eyes. She thinks she can see them in Killian’s as well, but it’s difficult to tell in the darkness.

“I love you, you old sap.”

“And I you.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the formatting is wonky, I’m sorry! I’m on vacation (jet lag and funky time zones are awful let me tell you, but they’re also why you guys are getting a new chapter today 🎉) and I am doing this from my phone, which is not something I usually do. But yeah, I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> The chapter begins with a flashback!

* * *

* * *

 “Killian, I’m really not sure if this is a good idea,” Emma whispers as they move forward in line, his fingers intertwined with hers as he tugs her forward to stand next to him so they don’t get lost in the crowd.

“Darling, I know you’re not big on the touristy activities, but we have to do it for Henry’s list.”

She tugs on his hand again, and he twists to the side to look down at her. He can’t see her eyes because of her sunglasses, the black frames covering the green, but he can see that her lips are pressed together in a firm line while her cheeks flush in a way that he knows has nothing to do with her blush.

“I mean the eye, babe. I don’t…I know it goes slowly, but I’m really worried that I’m going to throw up because of the movement.”

Oh.

He didn’t even think about that. He should have thought about it, but this is all still kind of new to him. It’s only been three days since they suspected Emma was pregnant, two since they’ve known officially, and they haven’t had much time to revel in it and celebrate with them constantly being around Liam, Belle, and Henry. It’s a bit ridiculous, really. Every time he gets Emma in a private corner simply to kiss her and tell her how goddamn happy he is that she’s in his life and is carrying their child, someone interrupts them.

Hiding Emma’s sickness is the most difficult thing, but trying to find some private time simply so they can talk is beginning to be even more difficult.

It’s likely a close tie.

He cannot believe he’s going to be a father.

Again.

He’s learning that it’s an odd disconnect, one that he’s struggling to understand, one that he really wants to talk to Emma about. Henry is his, undoubtedly. He loves that kid more than life itself. It hurts sometimes, physically aches, for him to think about his son and the light that he brings him after a life that has not necessarily been easy. He’s gotten to be a father to a little lad who he never thought would be such a major part in his life, and for someone whose greatest father figure was his brother and not his actual father, that’s not a responsibility he’s taken lightly.

He owes it to Emma and Henry, and even Liam and Neal, to be the man his father never was. Brennan was a fucked up man, but he helped shape Killian, whether he likes it or not.

But this is – this baby…she’s different. He’s got no clue if the baby is a boy or a girl, but he’s been calling her a girl in his head simply because it’s easier that way than dancing around pronouns and weird terms. She’s his little lady bug, and if she turns out to be a he, he’ll still be his bug. He doesn’t really have the words to describe how he’s feeling, and he likes to think of himself as a verbose man. It’s odd because he knows all of the science behind pregnancy and childbirth (Emma is a wonder woman), but he never could have imagined feeling how he feels. He didn’t always want children, his fear of being his father overwhelming him. It wasn’t something that he actively thought about, but then there was Milah and his love for her. They never got to that kind of future before things fell apart, but he realized that with the right partner, sometimes things shift and change.

And then he met Emma.

He met Emma, and even though they don’t have a traditional or straightforward relationship, she has changed absolutely everything in his life.

Now they’re having this child together, this child who he gets to be around from the beginning, and he doesn’t think he’s ever loved Emma more.

It’s not a second chance. No, that would be…wrong. It’s more like an old experience framed in a new light. There are similarities and differences, but everything is just as wonderful.

Except for Emma’s morning sickness, which seems to happen all day.

“If you don’t want to go, love, we can let Liam and Belle take Henry up there. They can tell him all about everything. They likely know it better than I do since it’s been so long since I’ve lived anywhere remotely near here.”

“Let’s,” she gulps, her cheeks puffing up for a moment, “ask Henry if he’d be okay for us to sit in the park while they go. I don’t think it’ll really mess with me since it’s not so much motion but…height. I’m not really sure. I just feel nauseous all the damn time.”

“It’s fine, Swan,” he tells her as he dips his head down and kisses her temple. “Liam,” he calls, reaching forward to grab his brother’s shoulder while Belle entertains Henry as he shows her the same toy ninja turtle that he’s been showing her for the entire trip.

“Yeah?”

“I think Emma and I are going to go sit down while you all ride, okay? She’s still not feeling well, and the height may make it worse.”

Liam’s brows furrow together, the lines on his face all concentrating in the center of his forehead, as his lips only slightly turn up into a sympathetic smile. “You okay, lass?”

“I’m fine,” Emma promises, even though he knows she’s lying. “You don’t mind taking Henry with you without us?”

“I don’t mind at all. I promise to point out everything that interests him. Henry,” Liam calls, and Henry stops talking to Belle as they both turn around to look at everyone, “your mum is still feeling a bit sick, so are you okay going on the ride with just me and Belle?”

Henry shrugs, holding up his ninja turtle doll. “Can I still take Leonardo?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’m good. Bye Momma.”

“Well don’t I feel special,” Emma laughs as she squats down to kiss Henry’s cheek. “Be good, okay?”

“Okay. Can we get something to eat when we come back down? Being in the air makes me hungry.”

Well that’s a new one.

“Yeah, kid, we can.”

He guides Emma over to the Jubilee Gardens. It’s crowded as any tourist attraction will be, but he manages to find them a place to sit in the shade under a canopy of trees, the August sun not shining nearly as brightly. They don’t have a sweater or blanket to spread out like most of the other people here, so he lays down on his back, hands crossed under his head, and let’s Emma rest her head on his stomach as she looks back over at the London Eye as if she can see Henry go up in the carriages.

“Still feeling sick?” he asks her as he moves his hands from behind his head so that he can mess with her hair, running his fingers through the strands of her hair while she closes her eyes, lashes landing against her freckle covered cheeks.

She’s so beautiful.

“Yeah, this kid of yours is going to be a killer. I can tell.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s great. Killian, this is a good thing. It’s what we wanted, and as much as I wish we could, we can’t change biology.”

“Aye,” he chuckles, working out a particularly nasty knot, “that’d be nice. I wish I could make it easier for you, especially since you’re having such a rough time right now. I mean, we can’t even tell anyone right now.”

“I’m kind of okay with that. It’s like our own little secret. It’s only us who know, and I don’t know – I like it. I like sharing something with you. I like not being bombarded with everything because you know the moment we tell everyone, they’ll never leave us alone. My mom, Marg David – ”

“Liam and Belle.”

“They’ll all go insane. Hell, even Ruby at work will be crazy.”

“Aye,” he laughs, beginning to twist her hair into a braid. “I imagine it’ll be quite the ordeal. Do you think Henry will take it well?”

“I don’t know. He’s been an only child for awhile, but he’s a good kid. I think he might be excited until he goes through the jealousy phase or whatever. We’ll have to make sure to look out for that.”

He hums in agreement and looks twists his head to the right to work out some of the kinks in his neck. There are people everywhere, conversations happening and laughter filling the air as much as the sounds of birds chirping, and he wonders how many of the people here are actually from London and how many are tourists. It doesn’t matter in the slightest, but it’s something he’s been noticing the past few days as his accent becomes heavier than it has been in years. He’s home, even if his home is both Brighton and Portland, and he finds a sense of comfort in all of this.

There’s a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye, and he looks to see two men arguing, their hands quickly moving around as they talk. They’re both in tailored suits similar to what he wears to work, but he can tell that one of the men is uncomfortable in it. There’s something oddly familiar about the man whose back is facing him, and when he turns to the side, Killian’s stomach drops at the similar profile. He looks just like Neal, but it’s not. It can’t be. Neal is dead, and this is simply another man who shares his profile. It’s not as if there aren’t a lot of dark-headed men out there.

“You okay, babe?” Emma asks, twisting her head on his stomach to look up at him. “You just went silent.”

“I’m fine,” he promises, flashing her a smile and shaking his head from the sense of deja vu that just happened. “I was simply thinking about you and our little bug. I can’t even express how unbelievably happy that I am.”

Emma’s lips tug up into a grin, her eyes radiating softness. “I can’t either. I – ” Her eyes go wide, and she has to cover her mouth. “Oh shit. I’ve got to vomit.”

* * *

* * *

“You really don’t have to take that long to wrap presents,” Liam laughs, sitting down on the window seat while Killian carefully folds the wrapping paper into small corners so that Emma’s new yoga pants are all wrapped up.

“I like things a certain way,” he protests, placing a piece of tape on the package. “Emma uses far too much tape when she wraps things, so unless the presents are for me, and sometimes not even then, I wrap our gifts.”

“It also makes it easy for you to know if Henry has unwrapped them, aye?”

He chuckles at that, twisting his head to look at his brother so that he can smile at him. He doesn’t have that many more presents to wrap today, but he does still need to put ribbons on them. “He usually shakes them, which is not a good thing when there’s something breakable.”

“He sounds like a kid.”

“That he is.” He reaches down and picks up a box from the floor, quickly opening it to see that it’s a few pairs of shoes for Ada that are far too big for her now. He rather likes the little sneakers with the lady bugs on them, but he doesn’t want to imagine her running around in them yet. She’s just about to start crawling. He can’t think about running. “Do you and Belle ever think about it anymore? I know it’s an awkward subject but – ”

“But we talk,” Liam finishes for him, getting up from the seat and walking toward the wrapped packages, stringing out the ribbon. “I’m fine with you asking me. It’s a bit of a sensitive subject for Belle because we tried for so long and nothing happened. It’s been…heartbreaking, but we’ve been looking into adopting, not as some kind of consolation. We just…we want to be parents.”

His heart breaks and soars all at once, the mixture of emotions like a tennis ball being hit back and forth over the clay covered courts of Roland Garros. He knows of all of the sorrow and emotions that Liam and Belle have been through in trying to have a kid. It was something his brother kept private until he confessed it one night when Killian was talking about the struggles he and Emma were having, and in a bit of a melancholy way, it’s bonded them more.

In truth, a hell of a lot of their bonding has occurred because of situations that he wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

“That’s bloody wonderful,” he sighs, a happy smile on his face as he watches Liam tie a ribbon around a package. “How is it going?”

“Well. We have a – there’s a young lad, Caleb. He’s about two, and Belle is absolutely besotted with him. I am too, but Belle is terrified to talk about it for fear of something falling through. We have a few more meetings about it in January.”

He stops wrapping the shoes and takes a step toward his brother, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and holding on as tightly as he possibly can. He only gets his brother here, in person, for two more days, and he wants to savor these moments. He wants to savor getting to have every person he loves in one place. He wants to savor celebrating and comforting his brother in the steps of life that he’s taking.

“I am so damn happy for you guys.”

“Thank you,” Liam murmurs, rubbing his hand up and down Killian’s back. “I am too. I want to be this boy’s father so badly. I want Belle to get to be the mum she deserves to be. I…want.”

He understands that completely. He understands every bit of it, every word. And when he pulls back, he can see all of the understanding in Liam’s eyes too, especially when he squeezes his shoulder.

“It’s not the same because of the age difference, but when it’s right for you guys, you could likely talk to Emma. She was adopted. She understands what it’s like to be the kid on the other side of it. Or you could talk to Ruth.”

“I could also talk to you.”

He quirks his brow and sits down on the bed, all of the presents shifting with him. “What do you mean?”

“You’re Henry’s father, but you haven’t always been. You took him on when he was about Caleb’s age. You know what it’s like.”

“Henry is different,” he sighs, shaking his head back and forth while he tries to figure out how to articulate his thoughts. “It’s…I had Emma. Emma knew all of the ropes, had given Henry a fantastic life, and I came in when it was easier. What you’re doing is different.”

“In a way, but I think we’re both men who are trying to be fathers to kids who had their fathers taken from them. It doesn’t make us more honorable or better, but it is a different challenge.”

“Aye,” he agrees, looking up at Liam. He looks startlingly like their father, but he never has those dark memories when he looks at them. “Though we have bloody wonderful women who do everything much better than us.”

“Well, at least Emma with you, but that’s not too hard.”  
  
“Shut up, you wanker,” he chuckles, getting up from the bed. “Here we are having a nice moment and you have to ruin it.”

“What else are older brothers for?”

“A hell of a lot more than that.”

“Daddy,” Henry whines from outside the door, his little voice muffled because of the wood, “are you finished wrapping presents yet?”

“No, my boy,” he chuckles, waggling his brows across his forehead at Liam who has an absolute smirk on his face, “I’m not. What are you doing outside the door?”

“Waiting for presents.”

“You get to open them tomorrow.”  
  
“That is too long,” he groans, and Killian has to contain the belly laugh that is threatening to escape him. Henry can be patient but not when it comes to Santa getting to come and opening presents. It’s all far too exciting for him to contain himself.

He glances at Liam once more before walking toward the bedroom door and unlocking it, quickly opening the door as that Henry falls back with it, his arms barely stopping his head from hitting the ground. It wasn’t the most mature thing to do, but Henry’s laugh is worth it.

“Where is your mum?” he asks, lifting Henry up from the ground and practically dragging him away from the door. “Isn’t she supposed to be keeping you entertained?”

“She’s changing Ada’s diaper, and it smelled like fish.”

“Oi,” he grunts, using the muscles in his arms to throw Henry over his shoulder. He’s almost too big for this now. “It did not. You only say this because you don’t like fish.”

“I like the ones like Nemo. The others smell.”

“Mackerel doesn’t smell when I cook it.”

“Yes it does.”

“Liam,” he calls, swinging Henry around as he moves to the staircase, his brother coming into view from the bedroom, “do you like eating mackerel?”

“Every morning for breakfast so I don’t get scurvy.”

“Ewww,” Henry groans, squirming even though Killian now knows that Henry is seriously considering eating fish since Liam does it. “That’s gross.”

“It’s yummy.”

Henry continues to protest, and even though his bony limbs are hitting Killian, he carries him down the stairs and turns right into the kitchen where Emma and Belle are chatting while the gentle hum of Christmas carols play in the background. There are a few discarded ingredients for the breakfast they’re serving for everyone in the morning, a grilled cheese on the stove instead, and he makes the assumption that Emma must have gotten hungry now. Or that they’re waiting for he and Liam to come help cook.

“Hello, beautiful ladies,” he greets as he walks in with Henry. Emma rolls her eyes. Belle blushes. It’s all as usual. “I have found someone trying to sneak his way into looking at presents before tomorrow.”

Emma whistles low under her breath, the smallest of smirks forming at her lips. “Oh no, babe. Do you know what happens when people try to find out what their presents are early?”

“I do not,” he sing-songs, plopping Henry down on the floor next to Ada’s playmat.

“They have to eat fish for dinner.”

Henry squeals at the same time that he and Liam bark out nearly identical laughs, the room suddenly a loud mess of him, and he watches as Emma winks before turning back to the stove and moving her grilled cheese off of the pan. The cunning lass obviously heard their talk. She’s always been the greatest at thinking on her feet when it comes to Henry, whether it be trying to explain something in a way that he understands or simply doing something funny to make him laugh. Once she managed to explain not wasting water by comparing it to Henry’s baseball games, and he’s still never quite figured out that one. Or at least, how she made the comparison. But Henry doesn’t waste water now.

Bloody miracle worker, the woman.

“I promise I won’t look. I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Belle laughs, reaching over the counter and taking Henry’s hand in hers. “Santa knows that you’re a good boy.”

“What’s all this screaming?” Neal questions as he walks in the room, his voice filled with laughter even though the jovial feeling in the air dies a little in his presence. It’s not his fault. He’s an outsider looking in no matter how comfortable they try to make him. It’ll get better for him when Liam and Belle go home, but he thinks that Neal’s been stepping back a bit to give them all some time this week. It’s nice, but he doesn’t have to step back. This is his family too.

“I have to eat fish if I look at my presents early.”

“I’d say don’t look at your presents early then,” Neal laughs, pulling out the barstool next to Henry and sitting down. “Ems, what time is your family coming over?”

“Tonight? At six.”

He watches as Emma cuts her grilled cheese into four slices, popping one in her mouth and sliding the plate to Henry, letting him eat the meal she very obviously was preparing for herself but is instead giving to Henry. While she’s chewing her food, she squats down and picks Ada up from her play mat, blowing a loud kiss into Ada’s cheek that causes Ada to scream out a giggle. He doesn’t know how he ever stepped back from her, from this. He remembers life before Emma, remembers how everything was, but he doesn’t really want to remember a world where he didn’t love her. Where she didn’t love him.

He doesn’t want to remember a world where she isn’t the center of his life.

Maybe it’s the joyous atmosphere in the room that’s making him think about all of this. Maybe it’s that Neal is now talking to Henry and making him laugh while Henry eats his good, Belle and Liam joining in on their conversation. Maybe it’s that everything finally feels right.

He’s not sure if he’s ever loved Emma more than he does right now. He’s thought it before, said it before, and he’s sure he’ll say it again.

Every time it is said, it’s meant.

He’s infinitely glad that they’re getting things right again, that they’re trying again. He doesn’t know what he would do without Emma.

“You look like you’re thinking,” Emma mumbles as she walks over to him, handing him Ada when she stretches her chubby hands toward him, her fingers already trying to mess with his ears.

“Always, love,” he winks, smiling down at her.

“About what, though?” Emma prods, her hand resting on the middle of his back while she makes faces at Ada, her cheeks puffing up as she inhales air.

“You.”

“Oh, your daddy is trying to be a charmer,” she whispers to their daughter, her eyes only glancing up to him for the briefest of moments.

“Who says I was thinking good things?”

Emma scoffs, like what he’s said is the most unbelievable thing in the world. It kind of is.

He adjusts Ada in his arms, wondering again how she can be this big now or if he’ll ever get used to her growing. He most likely won’t. “I’ll tell you later, love,” he promises, leaning down to kiss the apple of her cheek and whispers in her ear, “I’m afraid I’ll scar the lot of them if I tell you what I was thinking just now.”

Emma’s cheeks immediately flush red, and she shakes her head back and forth, gently slapping his back. He wasn’t thinking anything dirty, but she doesn’t have to know that. He’ll tell her everything later. maybe he’ll even throw in some dirty thoughts.

“Alright,” Emma starts, clapping her hands together, “who wants to make some cookies for Santa?”

* * *

 “Now that we’re alone,” he mumbles before he drags his teeth across her collarbone, her skin tasting of the slightest bit of salt, and he hears the gentle thud of Emma’s head hitting their bedroom door. He’s not particularly interested in that when he can hear her whimpers as he bites down on her skin. Her hips arch into his, and she deliciously brushes against where he’s beginning to strain. The slight friction is pleasurable, but it’s not enough. So he steps closer, caging her in, their hips rolling against each other while Emma is fully pressed up into the door, his hands above her while hers explore his back under his shirt, likely leaving red lines on his back.

“Ah, fuck,” she moans when he licks a slow stripe up her neck, and he can feel just how much she loves it with the way her nails dig into his skin.

“Such dirty words from such a pretty mouth,” he mumbles, making sure that his lips cover every inch of her skin that he has access to.”

“I’ve always had a bit of a sailor’s mouth on me.”

“Technically, you do have a sailor’s mouth on you. Quite literally”

She laughs, something deep and throaty, but it’s cancelled out by her own moan again when he gets to the spot on her ear that she likes. Her hips keep moving against his, rolling and teasing, and he can feel the pleasure and the tension build inch by wonderful inch.

“You’re an evil woman,” he continues, moving his hands down from the door so that the slide down her arms, landing at her body so that he can move them up under her shirt, not at all caring for propriety or patience as he feels the heavy weight of her breasts in her hands. “We have had family with us all evening,” he pants, not sure how much longer he can hold back. “They’re here to celebrate Christmas with us, with our children, and you spend the entire night with your hand far too high on my thigh.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she sighs innocently, and he would pull back to look at her with a raised brow, but he’s particularly interested in working his way back down her neck, making sure to rub his scruff into her.

“You do,” he says simply, his voice strained even to his own ears. “You’re a minx and a tease, and don’t think I didn’t notice the way you made sure to stand with your ass just in front of my view as we put out the presents.”

“I was trying to speed up the progression of the song about Mommy kissing Santa Clause.”

It’s a bad joke, but he can’t help but laugh at it before hungrily slanting his lips over Emma’s, capturing her mouth in his as their teeth clank together and their tongues battle, a harshness that is not always there with them present tonight. She nips at his bottom lip, hard, before soothing it, and it’s that which has him moving his hands from her breasts and up under her ass, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist so that he can carry her. She does, their cores pressed together, and he doesn’t break the kiss if only so Emma won’t say anything about him hurting his back. He’s not going to, not tonight.

He wants to take things slow tonight, to let them savor things, to let Emma know of his thoughts earlier of just how much he loves her, but Emma’s in a mood that has them shredding their clothes and him taking her from behind, his pleasure far outweighing hers until he reaches between them and finds the slick flesh where they’re joined. Emma’s gasp comes from the back of her throat, is similar to what must be pure sin, and he wants to hear it over and over again.

They’re hurried the first time, the need for each other too much, but when Emma wakes him in the middle of the night, he deliberately paces them slowly, holding onto Emma’s hips as she moves above him, only the sound of skin against skin and the occasional odd sound outside filling the room. The pleasure builds slowly, steadily, and this time he tells her just how much he loves her and how much she means to him. This time he tells her that his entire world has revolved around her, that it wouldn’t work without her, and he has to grit his teeth to hold back his release all the while wiping his thumb underneath her eye to push away the stray tears.

And for the few hours that they do actually get to sleep the night, their bodies are so tightly pressed together that he’s barely sure which limbs belong to him.

They wake when there’s a knock on their door, the beats fast and lacking enough rhythm for him to know that it’s Henry. He laughs into Emma’s neck before kissing down her bare back, enjoying this last little moment before the chaos of the day begins. The sun hasn’t even risen yet, the moonlight still filtering through the curtains, but Christmas has officially begun.

“Happy Christmas, my love.”

“Merry Christmas,” she whispers back, twisting her head and kissing the corner of his lips. “We have about thirty seconds before he breaks that door down.”

“Mom,” Henry groans from outside, his knocks quieting, “you have to come outside so we can see what Santa brought me.”

“Just a minute, kid,” she laughs as the two of them quickly get up out of bed. He doesn’t know about Emma, but the headache forming in his right temple is going to kill him if he doesn’t get a nap today.

They make quick work of dressing in pajamas, Emma deftly pulling her hair into a braid so that it looks less like he spent the night fucking her, and even though they both definitely need to brush their teeth and wash their faces, they get to the door and open it to Henry standing outside practically vibrating out of his skin.

“Hey, Merry Christmas,” Emma greets, dipping down and pulling Henry into a tight hug.

“Merry Christmas,” Henry murmurs, pushing Emma back and practically running toward the staircase.

“Henry,” he calls out, and the kid comes to a complete stop, nearly slipping in his socks. “Have you noticed that anyone is missing?”

“Ada?” he shrugs, yanking at his shirt sleeve.

“What about your dad?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Why don’t you go wake him up?” Emma says calmly while tightening the string on her pants. “Gently. We don’t jump on his bed, okay?”

“I know. Don’t go downstairs without me.”

“Scout’s honor.” He reaches up to salute Henry as he runs off before turning to look at Emma who is still working on adjusting her pants, messing with the drawstring. For awhile he was worried about how slim she was getting with the stress of giving birth and Neal, and despite her still being a bit smaller than usual, she’s getting back to how she usually is. Her being less stressed is definitely helping. “Do you want to get the other kid or shall I?”

“Will you get her? I’ve got to pee.”

“Sure, love.”

Ada is already awake when he walks into the nursery, so he quickly picks her up, kissing her cheek before stepping over to the changing table and changing her diaper before snapping back her onesie. It makes her look like a reindeer, and he’ll never quite understand where Ruth finds these outfits. And he is sure that it’s Ruth that bought it. It practically has her name written all over it.

“It’s Christmas, my little love,” he coos to her, tapping his fingers on her cheek. She’s going to need to be fed soon, but he hopes that she makes it through opening a few presents so Emma doesn’t have to miss that with Henry. “I think Santa came to visit you and your brother.”

“Come on, Dad,” he hears Henry plead, and when he walks out into the hallway, he sees Henry tugging Neal down the hallway.

“What time is it, kid?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

The chuckle that passes through his lips can’t be stopped, and he flashes Neal a bit of a sympathetic smile. They warned him about this last night, but it doesn’t really hit until you’ve gotten no sleep and have to be enthusiastic for an eight-year-old.

“Morning,” Neal mumbles, flashing him a sleepy smile. “Do you think Santa left coffee under the tree?”

“God I hope so.”

Santa didn’t, but he did leave Henry several movies and toys, the house now full of a spike ball set and several scientific kits that he’s sure will make a mess. He doesn’t know why he bought those now that he thinks about it. They should have found things less messy. But it’s a riot watching Henry tear through the few gifts, especially when he gets to some of the art kits and storybooks that Neal bought him. He’s so excited about them that he practically smothers his father in a hug, jumping up on him and telling him all about the pictures he’s going to draw and stories he’s going to write with them. The smile on Neal’s face is one of a proud dad, and something settles in Killian’s heart then while he sits on the floor next to Emma with the two of them letting Ada rip at wrapping paper and chew on some of the little toys she’s collected herself.

His son has an extra person to love him, truly love him, and even though Neal is not his favorite person in the world anymore, he could be for how he loves Henry.

“What’s this?” Henry asks, holding up a small piece of paper. “Why does it say to go outside?”

“Maybe there’s a present out there that we can’t bring inside?”

“Like a car?”

“No,” Emma laughs, rising from the ground, holding out her hand for him as he brings Ada up with him, “not a car, but maybe something with wheels.”

Henry’s already squealing by the time they get outside, his new bike on proud display with a giant bow on it, and the lad is going on and on about having to shovel the snow so that he can ride it. it’s an ambitious plan, one that’s not going to work, but they’re not going to bring down his high this morning. He can have this.

Liam and Belle show up at the front door around nine, and all of the Nolans come in just behind them, Leo immediately running toward Henry so they can talk about their haul this morning. He and Emma make a conscious effort not to give Henry too much and to make sure that he understands everyone isn’t as fortunate as him, and while Killian thinks that Henry gets that, he does get excited to talk about his things with his cousin.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Ruth sighs, hugging him with her small frame.

“Hello, beautiful,” he whispers as he kisses her cheek. “Are you ready for your grandchildren to wreak chaos on you?”

“This is every grandmother’s dream, don’t you know that?”

“I thought every grandmother’s dream was to make me gain ten pounds so that I don’t fit in my suits anymore,” David laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Just because I make the food doesn’t mean you have to eat it, David.”  
  
“Mom, you know that it does. Emma,” David calls, looking over to Emma who’s just handed Ada off to Mary Margaret, “if Mom cooks, can we simply not eat the food?”

“We have to eat the food. Mostly because it’s good but really because Mom passive aggressively tortures us if we don’t eat all of her collards.”

“I do not.”

“You do, Ruth,” Mary Margaret starts. “One time I didn’t finish a panini you made me, and I swear you glared at me for weeks.”

“This is why I always finished everything you cooked me,” Neal says as he sips on his coffee.

“I cooked for you one time.”

“Yeah, don’t be a suck up, Cassidy,” Emma teases, winking over at him. “And I distinctly remember you complaining about the carrots when you never complain about anything.”

“Just throw me under the bus, why don’t you?”

“I try.”

“Belle, darling,” Liam laughs as Killian moves to start setting up breakfast for everyone, laying a sausage casserole onto the island, “are you terrified of eating anything Ruth has made now?”

“I’m shaking in my actual boots.”

“All I do is love all of you kids, and this is what I get in return,” Ruth huffs, sitting down on a barstool.

“I love you,” he tells her, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles, laying the charm on as thick as he can.

“Look who’s a suck up now,” Emma announces, opening the oven to check on the biscuits. It’s a pity he missed out on those for the first twelve years of his life. “It’s almost like you’re trying to impress her so that you can date her daughter.”

“Well, I hate to break it to the sweet Miss Nolan, but I did already knock her daughter up.”

“You’re pregnant,” Mary Margaret squeals, and his stomach does some kind of unnatural twist.

“Uh, n-no,” Emma stutters, holding her hands up while he can tell that she’s trying to find her words and regulate her breathing, her chest moving up and down the slightest bit. “I’m definitely not pregnant.”

“Oh, but Killian said – ”

“It was a poor choice of words, love,” he promises, not sure where to look. He doesn’t want to look at Liam and Belle, knowing this must be an awkward situation for them that can’t be pleasant and not wanting to look at Neal either since Killian is technically talking about sleeping with the man’s ex-wife. Emma’s not a great option either, especially since she’s going to murder him later, so he settles on Ruth who is looking at him with her lips pressed together as she shakes her head from side to side. “Emma is not pregnant. The only baby I was referring to is Ada.”

“So you can calm down, hon,” David says to Mary Margaret, squeezing her shoulder and kissing the top of her head.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Marg,” Emma assures her, flashing her a tight smile and bopping Ada on the nose.

“It would have been some way to announce it, though,” Belle laughs, her features relaxed, “since you have actual buns in the oven.”

“Mom,” Leo yells from the living room, and practically everyone turns to look at him, “when are we going to eat?”

“After you wash your hands.”

“I already did.”

“You haven’t left that room.”

Leo huffs, dropping the ball he was holding, before he turns to Henry and very loudly whispers, “we don’t actually have to wash our hands. If we turn the water on, they think we do.”

“So no one touch anything that Leo touches,” David announces, and even though it’s a bit funny, he makes a note to make sure to check that Henry is washing his hands.

Even though he tries to catalog the entire morning, it goes by much quicker than he could possibly imagine as everyone spreads throughout the living room to eat far more than necessary, the sounds of the Polar Express on in the background to keep Leo and Henry entertained since they can’t open the presents Ruth brought them quite yet. But they do eventually get to open them, and of course, once everything starts to calm down, the chatter not quite as insistent, Ada has a meltdown. Her little face turns as red as a tomato, and she wails and wails with nothing soothing her but having him walk her back and forth down the upstairs hallway away from everyone else.

By the time it’s two in the afternoon, all of the Nolans have left, and Neal has gone to take a nap, grumbling about not being used to this early thing on his days off. Killian gets it, which is exactly why after having gotten Ada to sleep in her crib, he wanders downstairs and stretches out on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table while Emma leans into his side.

“I’m tired,” she laments, nuzzling her head a little further into his chest.

“Well, you are with child,” Liam jokes from his spot on the loveseat.

“I hate you.”

“You love me, birdie.”

“Possibly. I definitely love Belle, though.”

“Damn right,” Belle agrees, sitting up and crossing her legs underneath her.

“Darling,” he starts, resting his cheek against her temple while his fingers tap against the back of the couch, “don’t hurt Liam’s feelings. He doesn’t have many friends, so he really needs you.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Hey, language. Where’s Henry?”

“In his room, babe,” Emma laughs, patting his stomach, “so Belle and Liam can curse as much as they want to.”

“The walls are not that thick.”

“I would bloody hope that they are. Otherwise your children would be subjected to some noises that Killian makes that are not so pleasant.”

If he wasn’t too tired to move and didn’t have Emma resting on top of him, he’d…who is he kidding? He’s not going to get up and punch his brother or toss throw pillows at him for making a cheap joke about how Killian sounds during sex.

“You have the maturity of a fifteen-year-old.”

Liam shrugs. “It keeps me young.”

“If the wrinkles on your face are any indication, you need it.”

“Oh my gosh,” Emma laughs, slapping his stomach again. he grabs her hand and pulls it to his lips, kissing each knuckle before placing it on his chest with his hand resting over hers. “You two are ridiculous.”

“And yet the two of you chose to be with us.”

He watches Belle pat Liam on his cheek, a smirk painted on her face. “We married far below our level.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, no, Emma and Killian aren’t married. But to everyone else they may as well be so those words just kind of slipped off of Belle’s tongue without much thought 💕


	13. Chapter Thirteen

The New Year begins without much fanfare. The day after Christmas, Killian and Neal go back to work while Liam and Belle fly home to England in what has to be one of the most emotional goodbyes that she’s felt in all of her time in knowing them. The house definitely feels emptier after a week full of life, but it also gives her a few days to calm down and start preparing for her to officially go back to work and not just communicate with her students through email. She’s nervous for her first day back with students roaming the halls instead of teacher work days where the school feels empty, and it’s kind of weird. She’s been at Greely for three years, and even with the partial semester that she just took off that was a combination of maternity leave and “ex-husband coming back from the dead” leave, she’s always felt comfortable there. It’s a good public school, well-funded, and she likes most of the teachers and administrative staff.

She’s made some of her closest friends there, mostly Ruby, and she finds that her lunch breaks are often spent in the art room eating with Ruby instead of sitting in her office or the cafeteria. She’s missed Ruby over the last few months. Usually they keep in better touch, sometimes going out to dinner, but she’s dropped the ball. Ruby has understood and given her space, but for all the reasons she’s looking forward to going back to work, having a normal social life again is definitely still near the top of the list.

And getting to do things other than watching her children and cleaning the house or taking down Christmas decorations despite all of Henry’s protests. She doesn’t mind. This is her life, and she wants to take care of Henry and Ada. She’s their mom, and it’s something she’s always wanted. She simply wants more.

So naturally, she goes from taking care of her own kids to taking care of other people’s grown kids.

But she wants a schedule again, wants to get up and be productive, wants to have her paycheck again, wants to feel like she’s making a difference.

She wants every bit of normalcy that she’s been craving since that morning in September when she passed out on the kitchen floor because Henry told her that Neal was alive.

Talk about a morning.

Throughout her life, she’s never been one to believe in star signs or that a new calendar year means anything, but now, for the first time, a new year might mean a new beginning for her and for her family. She hopes that the new beginning is a good one because even though things are good now, she understands that with everything happening, it’s likely that things will get a bit complicated.

Okay, that’s a lie. Things are _definitely_   going to get more complicated, but she hopes that it’s a good kind of complicated and not one that’s going to bring her enough stress to age her a good five years when she was kind of hoping she could avoid some more wrinkles for a little bit more time. Or gray hairs. She’s not looking forward to those for her.

(Killian isn’t either, but that’s because she found one gray hair on his head. He was not at all happy about it. She thought it was kind of adorable. Or sexy. She told him it was sexy and not adorable. He’s a confident man, but sometimes she has to stroke his ego, amongst other things.)

But she thinks it’s going to happen, and it’s most likely going to be caused by the constant push and pull that is having Neal back in her life.

Neal has been offered a job in DC. Like, officially. She knew that it was a possibility, especially with the time that he’s been spending there still working with the Marines, but when he told her that he was offered a job at the State Department to work with arms control and regulation, she was surprised. He says that it’s not the position that he wants, that he might see if he can find something else with his connections he now has because of everything that’s happened, but that this is a good step in the door. She’s proud of him, proud that he’s going after what he wants in life, but like she thought before when they’d talked about this, it breaks her heart the slightest bit.

Why doesn’t he want to stay?

Why doesn’t he want to stay in town with Henry?

Shouldn’t he want that after missing so much of his life?

She and Neal are definitely forming a new kind of friendship that will make her miss him, but mostly, she’s worried about their son. It’s not a super short flight to DC, and she’s not sending her eight-year-old on a flight by himself, no matter what procedures there are for unaccompanied minors. That’s not happening. And it’s not like he can simply go see his dad on the weekends without there being a conflict with them or with Henry’s soccer games. She doesn’t know when Henry would see Neal, and she doesn’t care if it’s selfish, but Henry isn’t spending his summers or holidays away from her. She’s been with him for his entire life, and she’s not sure how she’s going to handle any of this, especially if things rapidly tumble down a hill into a nasty custody battle.

That’s not going to happen. Neal wouldn’t do that to her. She’s overreacting. He would never try to take Henry away from her. That much she knows, even if it takes constant reminding.

Besides, they’re making arrangements to all travel to DC in March during Henry’s spring break to show him around where they all used to live and to let him see where his dad might live now.

Making that one vacation with all of them going is complicated enough. Custody battles would be worse.

Custody battles aren’t happening, she reminds herself. This is her anxiety over more changes when she’s trying to get back to normal again talking to her.

She’s never been great with change. She thinks it’s a foster kid thing because of all of the uncertainty of how long she’d be in a house or if the parents would be nice. It’s…a lot. She doesn’t really like to think about it anymore.

It doesn’t help, or hopefully it _will_  help, that she and Killian just found a therapist for Henry, a nice middle-aged man named Archie Hopper. He’s kind, accomplished, and during their test visit last week, Henry really seemed to like him. That’s important to her. If they’re going to have their kid talking to someone about his feelings, talking to someone who might help develop him and how he thinks, it needs to be someone Henry likes. Therapy needs to be a good thing for him and not something that causes him any stress or worries.

Therapy might be causing her some stress.

She needs to find herself a therapist. Maybe someone will give them a group rate for most of the family going.

That’s kind of a sadistic joke.

She makes those.

“Swan,” Killian calls as he steps into the bathroom, Ada squirming in his arms enough that she can see how tightly Killian is holding onto her to keep her from falling, “you guys have to leave in twenty minutes, and she’s hungry. Do you want to feed her or should I get the bottle?”

She hesitates, not entirely sure of her answer. She still needs to eat breakfast and finish putting on her mascara, but she also wants to spend a little more time with Ada. Only a little part of her denies that she’s sentimental, but she won’t deny how upset she is to have to leave Ada at a daycare today. Going back to work is most definitely a good thing, but it’s coming with its own challenges.

Leaving her baby…that’s one of them.

“I’ll feed her. Just grab me the chair from the bedroom and I’ll finish getting ready.”

“Are you sure, love? I can – ”

“I need the time,” she admits, glancing up at Killian’s eyes before walking over and taking Ada out of his arms. “And I can multitask or whatever.”

“Aye, wonder woman.”

“Just without the costume.”

He waggles his brows across his forehead, and she knows what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth. “That can be arranged.”

She snorts, actually snorts. “Go get me the chair and then make sure Henry has brushed his teeth, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Her eyes roll a bit at that, and she leans down to kiss Ada’s head. “Your daddy is the most ridiculous man in the entire world.”

“I can hear you.”

“I know.”

It takes a bit of maneuvering, but she does get around to feeding Ada while also finishing getting ready for work. She really needs coffee, but she’ll have to get some once she’s at school. If she were to drink it right now, she’d basically be a livewire.

“You look pretty, Mom,” Henry tells her when she walks downstairs, the heels of her boots clicking against the wood.

“Thanks, kid. Did your daddy tell you to say that?”

“No.” She raises a brow at him, and his face immediately shifts from neutral to giddy, a giant grin forming on his lips. “Yes.”

“I did no such thing,” Killian scoffs, playfully elbowing Henry in the side. “How could this kid not want to compliment how pretty his mum is?”

“Because Henry doesn’t give many compliments before eight in the morning.” She takes the few steps over to Henry and leans down to kiss his forehead while Ada continues to pull at the threads of her sweater. “Thank you, baby. You look extra handsome for your first day back at school. Are you excited?”

“Kind of, but I don’t want to call Mary Margaret Mrs. Nolan again. That’s weird.”

“It’s only when she’s your teacher that you have to do that. When you’re out of the third grade, you can go back to calling her Mary Margaret.”

“I’m going to be in third grade forever.”

“I bloody well hope not,” Killian laughs, looking up at her and winking. “What would happen if you were still in third grade by the time your sister got there? You’d want to be in the same class as your sister?”

Henry shrugs and takes another bite of the apple Killian must have cut up for him. “I bet I could teach her a lot of things.”

“You could teach her more if you keep learning in school,” she prods, swiping an apple slice from his plate. “Speaking of that, are you ready to go?”

“Can I bring my book with me?”

“Yeah, but you’ve got to keep it with me in the car, okay?”

“You’re going to pick me up from school, right?”

“Mary Margaret is going to walk you over to my building like we used to do.”

Henry nods his head and goes back to eating his breakfast, stuffing it all in his face far too quickly, while she gets up off of her stool and hugs Ada as much as she can, smattering kisses all across her face. “Be good for Ashley at nursery today, bug,” she whispers, rocking her the slightest bit. “I love you so much, and I will be there to pick you up as soon as I can be.”

Ada babbles something back, her little brain not ready to say anything even though she’s definitely trying her hardest. God, she loves this kid a ridiculous amount. The apple-eating one too.

“Do you want to hand her off to me?” Killian asks gently, reaching over to her and tucking her hair behind her ear. “I promise I don’t bite unless otherwise asked.”

“You’re very cheeky this morning.”

“I had some fantastic adult time last night.”

“You’re the actual worst.”

“I would debate that.”

“Of course you would.”

“And I’d win.”

“Never.”

“Always.”

“Mom, I thought you said we had to go,” Henry whines, coming up to her with his coat and backpack already on, his notebook in his hands.

“We do, we do,” she promises, stepping closer to Killian and quickly brushing her lips over his, her boots only making her press up on her toes a little bit to reach him. “Bye, babe. I love you.”

“I love you too.” She moves to take a step away, and Killian’s hand stops her, keeping her right in front of him. “You have to give me Ada.”

“Really? Are you sure I can’t take her with me? I think she’d fit in well with all of those giant high schoolers.”

“Darling – ”

“I know,” she sighs, dipping her head down to kiss Ada’s hair again. “I love you, bug.”

“She loves you too,” Killian tells her, taking Ada out of her arms and holding her close to his chest. “You’re going to have a good day. Call me at lunch, okay?”

She nods her head and kisses his cheek once more before she’s grabbing her purse and ushering Henry out of the door. She hears the wails the moment the door is closed, and it breaks her heart that little bit more. It’ll stop soon. The separation anxiety will calm down, but then Ada is going to have to go through it all over again when Killian drops her off at her daycare on his way to taking he and Neal to work.

Sometimes all she wants is time by herself to be an adult and have conversations with other adults, but then something like this happens and all she wants is to spend her day with her kid.

“We’re going to be late if you stand there for too long.”

A laugh passes through her lips, and she takes a deep breath before stepping forward and leaning down to smother Henry with as many kisses as she can before he moves away from her. He’s much more difficult to be affectionate with than the kid who can’t even walk yet. “I love you even if you are far too much like your daddy with you telling me we’re going to be late like that.”

“You’re always telling me to hurry up so we can’t be late.”

“That’s true, kid. Let’s get us to school.”

 

* * *

 

“So,” Ruby starts as she comes into Emma’s office without knocking, plopping down in one of her extra chairs, “how’s life with baby daddy number one and baby daddy number two? That’s a lot of sexual energy in one house.”

“I cannot believe you educate kids.”

“I’m an art teacher, thank you very much,” she scoffs, holding up her paint covered hands. “I get to be eccentric. Besides, Mills doesn’t pay me any attention. I tell her that the red streaks in my hair are from a project in class.”

“And she believes that?”

“No. She just doesn’t care about me. Just like I don’t care about me. I need to know more about the baby daddy situation. My life is boring, and yours is full of intrigue.”

Her shoulders sag forward before she rolls them back, clicking save on one of her student’s files. She needs to talk to Felix about his late applications tomorrow.

“There’s not much to say,” she admits, and when Ruby’s eyebrows go up to her hairline, she continues, “ _anymore_. I’m still with Killian. Neal is living in our house and working. He’s thinking about moving to DC, which is a whole other can of worms that I’m trying to get him to think through for at least another month or so.”

“You want him to stay? Isn’t that confusing? Like, emotionally?”

“Mostly for Henry. I don’t want his dad to leave him again. Remind me and you can come over for dinner because you have to see how much that kid loves Neal.”

“I mean, his dad is like this badass war hero. What more could an eight-year-old want? That’s about as close to a superhero as he can get.”

“True,” she laughs, reaching down to take a sip of her water while she lets all of that settle in. Technically both of his dads are badass war heroes, but Killian doesn’t like to talk about it too much. It’s all about personal preference, and Neal has decided being a public face of life after war is something that he wants to help others. It’s good for him. “But yeah, we’re all good. I’m happy to be back at work, to see you. Life hasn’t been the same without you.”

“Girl, let me tell you, it has been so boring without you. I’ve been switching around who I sit with at lunch, and the teachers here are definitely in cliques just like that kids.”

“Did you try sitting with the advanced math teachers?”

“Yes,” she groans, slapping her hands against her thighs. “They were so obnoxious.”

Ruby can only stay for ten more minutes before she has to go teach a class, and the rest of the day seems to fly by as she finishes catching up on the things she didn’t get to on the work days she had before the official start of school today. In the back of her mind she knows that it’s nearly time for school to be released, but it doesn’t keep her from jumping when she hears the bell. It also doesn’t keep her from being surprised when Mary Margaret shows up in her office with Leo and Henry trailing just behind her, their eyes wandering around the room like the high school is some kind of magical place.

Maybe it is when everyone is several feet taller than you.

“Hey, kid,” she greets, smiling at him from her desk, “how was school? Did you learn a bunch of cool stuff?”

Henry nods his head before scurrying over to her and cupping his hands against her ear. “It was boring, but I can’t say that with Mary Margaret right there.”

She laughs. She can’t help it. Henry should not be saying that, but it’s kind of delightful that he is.

“It was not boring,” Mary Margaret protests, sitting down in a chair.

“You’re kind of boring, Mom,” Leo adds in as he searches through her bowl of candy, holding up a peppermint in silent question to his mom. “Dad’s job is cooler.”

“Your dad spends his entire day sitting at a computer.”

“But he catches bad guys.”

“He makes a good point, Marg,” she laughs, handing Henry her water bottle since he’s been eyeing it. “I mean, I personally think we’re pretty cool, but David is a detective who solves mysteries.”

“And he’s only able to solve those mysteries because he had good teachers in school.”

“Did you have a good day, Leo?” she asks, trying to change the subject before Mary Margaret goes off on a tangent about how teaching is cool (it is) that turns the kids off of it for life. They’ll understand when they’re older. “I heard that you guys are doing obstacle courses in gym.”

“Oh my gosh,” he gasps, the excitement practically rolling off of him as he presses up on his toes and leans over the desk, nearly knocking things over. “It is so awesome. I get to climb a wall and then hang off of monkey bars. And Lawrence told me to imagine that the floor is like lava so we can’t let go.”

“Did you make it all the way across?”

“You bet I did.”

“Alright,” she laughs, holding up his hand and giving him a high five. “Did you get to do the obstacle course, Henry?”

“No,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “We don’t get to do it until Wednesday.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that’s only two days away from now.”

She lets Mary Margaret and Leo go so that Leo can go to his karate lesson (they kid may be playing every possible sport at the moment), and after she finishes up her last few things and grabs a folder of paperwork to shift through at home, she takes Henry to go pick Ada up from daycare. Whatever breath she’s been holding all day is released the moment her girl is back in her arms looking just as she did this morning. Ashley says that she did just great, even if she did cry for a long time when Killian left her, and while she doesn’t love that, it’s over for today.

But they’ll do it all over again tomorrow.

And they do.

Slowly but surely their routine settles back into how it used to be, even with the changes of the two new people in the house, and she gets used to being back at work after about a week and a half. The shiny newness has worn off, and even though she still loves it, around two she usually needs some coffee to help her make it through the rest of the afternoon. Coffee is pretty much her lifesaver.

On the last Wednesday of January, she’s sitting in the lobby of Dr. Hopper’s office with Ada in her car seat next to her when her phone buzzes with a text.

_David: Mom, because she is apparently incapable of texting you herself, wants to know if you guys are still coming to dinner tonight._

_Emma: We’re still coming! Neal is going to dinner with some of his coworkers. I think they go to a bar or something every Wednesday._

_David: Okay! See you then._

_David: Wednesdays are the nights most college kids go out. We get so many drunk and disorderly calls._

_Emma: Why Wednesdays?_

_David: Oh come on, don’t you remember? Late classes on Thurdays usually, so everyone can show up hungover. You’re younger than me kid. You’re not supposed to have forgotten these things._

_Emma: Forgive me for not being as wild in college as you were with your long hair._

_David: I hate that Mom gave you those pictures when she was trying to make you feel at home._

_Emma: I love them. You were a very handsome grungy 90’s man._

_David: I will burn them all._

_Emma: Arson, detective Nolan._

“Miss Swan,” Dr. Hopper says as he and Henry come out of his office, Henry trailing behind him with his hands stuffed in his coat pocket, “how are you today?”

“I’m good,” she promises, putting her phone in her back pocket and getting up to shake his hand since she didn’t get to when she dropped Henry off. “How are you?”

“Just wonderful. I’ll see you and Henry next week at five, right?”

“His dad might bring him to his session next week.”

“His father or – ”

“Killian,” she explains, knowing that it’s easier to say his name when talking to other people. It’s going to be even more confusing when he decides to that he’s too old to call Killian daddy anymore. He’s already switching back between ‘Mom’ and ‘Momma’ for her. “I’ve got to take the baby for a checkup.”

“Well I look forward to seeing him then. Henry, I’ll see you next week, okay?”

“Okay,” Henry smiles, reaching up to high five doctor Hopper. “Thanks for the candy.”

“No problem. Goodbye,” Dr. Hopper starts before she stops him, grabbing onto his arm. “Yes, Miss Swan?”

“Do you have the list of therapists that you were going to recommend for me?”

He smiles and nods his head up and down. “Ah, yes. Let me go get it from my office. Just a moment.”

“Why can’t you talk to Dr. Hopper like I do?” Henry questions, picking up Ada’s stuffed giraffe out of her seat. “He’s really nice.”

She squats down in front of Henry so that they’re eye level and reaches up to brush his hair out of his face. He needs to get it cut. “Dr. Hopper is really nice, but I have to talk to someone else like your dad does because Dr. Hopper is good at talking to kids like you.”

“Kind of like how you’re good with talking to the high schoolers?”

“Exactly like that.”

Dr. Hopper comes back in the room and hands her an envelope full of his recommendations, and she takes it. Neal had said she could always go to his therapist, especially since they’re all in the same building, but it doesn’t feel right to be going to the same person, even if that person would likely very intimately know all of the issues in their family. So she’ll try some of these people out.

Grabbing Ada’s car seat, she takes she and Henry out to the car, buckling them in and driving to West End to go to Ruth’s house for dinner. It’s always weird coming back here to the home that was her, well, first real home, and even though some of the rooms hold a hell of a lot of bad memories for her, they’ve been replaced with some good ones of Henry swinging on the play set and Killian meeting her mom for the first time.

 

* * *

* * *

 

“Your bedroom is very pink, Swan,” Killian teases her, running his hand over the floral bedspread while she is silently thankful that she was never too sentimental as a teenager and didn’t decorate her room with pictures of Justin Timberlake on the walls. Killian would literally never let that go.

“I did not decorate this place,” she insists, sitting down on her bed, the old springs creaking the slightest bit. “Ruth made it super bright and overly cheerly because she asked Mary Margaret for advice on how to make me more comfortable before I moved in.”

“Ah.”

“What?”

Killian clicks his tongue and reaches up to scratch behind his ear, his hair flopping over his forehead and curling at the ends. “Well, it seems to me that you sister-in-law, from the few times I’ve spoken to her, doesn’t exactly share the same tastes as you in things.”

“Some things overlap,” she admits, stretching out on the mattress and looking up at the ceiling. She used to count the patterns up there to fall asleep at night, and when that didn’t work, she’d sit on the window seat and look at the houses across the street. “And I do love her, even if it took some time for she and David to grow on me.”

“Please, don’t act like you and David weren’t always peas in a pod.”

“We weren’t,” she protests, propping herself up on her elbows and watching as Killian goes through the few books that are on the shelf. “David is, you know, up there closer to your age.” Killian doesn’t have to turn around for her know that he’s rolling his eyes. “And we didn’t really get along until I was seventeen and had snuck out of the house to meet with a guy who left me at a house party. I needed a ride home and was too scared to call Ruth.”

“So you called David, and he saved the day,” Killian finishes for her, stepping over to her and sitting on the edge of the mattress. “And thus started a friendship for the ages.”

“Pretty much,” she laughs.

Killian reaches back to tap at her stomach, nudging her and tickling her while she laughs. “That wasn’t very gentlemanly of that guy to leave you at a party.”

“He was seventeen. Most of them aren’t gentleman. I’m sure you weren’t.”

Killian huffs, the displeasure obvious in his voice, and before she can say something else he’s shifting on the bed and caging her in, their bodies tightly pressed together while their lips hover just over each other. She can feel the warmth of his breath and see the sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

“I am _always_  a gentleman.”

“I know for a fact that’s not true. You’re pretty much a scoundrel.”

“A handsome one though.”

“Very,” she promises, reaching up to tangle her fingers through her hair while their lips slide over the other. He tastes a little bit like the tea he was drinking on the car ride over her, and even though she doesn’t like that tea, she doesn’t really care, especially because this makes her feel like a teenager…in all of the good ways.

“A handsome scoundrel and gentleman. That’s what I say on my business cards.”

“Shut up.”  
  
“Emma,” her mom calls, and she can practically feel his entire body tense over hers, “stop kissing your boyfriend and come eat your birthday dinner.”  
  
“I don’t know about you, Swan, but that made me feel rather young.”

It’s kind of like all of her worlds colliding sitting at a dinner table wither her mom, her brother, her sister-in-law, her son, and her boyfriend, but it’s nice. It’s nice that they all get along, that Killian feels comfortable to tease David and to compliment Ruth’s cooking and her stories about Emma and David when they were younger. He’s being the charming boyfriend that he always is, but she can tell that he’s a little nervous with the extra flattery and the tapping of his foot underneath the table. Killian isn’t really one to get nervous, so her heart kind of swells that he’s like this to meet her mom.

She was a mess when she met Liam, and they weren’t even dating then.

“Emma, will you come help me get your cake out of the fridge?”

“Sure,” she answers, sliding back in her chair, squeezing Killian’s shoulder. “Henry, you have to finish those green beans if you want this cake.”

“Really?”

“Really, they better be gone by the time that I get back.”

Henry groans, but she hears it stop as Killian says something to him, probably weaving some great tale to get Henry to eat his vegetables, and she can’t hide the smile that’s tugging up at the corner of her lips.

“He’s so handsome,” Ruth announces, and Emma practically jumps out of her skin.

“Holy crap,” she gasps, her heart beating a mile a minute in her chest. She has to press her hand over her heart while she tries to regulate her breathing. “Why’d you scare me like that?”

“I didn’t mean to, sweetie,” Ruth promises as she gets the cake out of the fridge all on her own. Why the hell did she think that her mom actually needed help getting the cake? That was obviously a bad excuse. “I was trying to talk to you about Killian. I love him.”

“I do too,” she admits, her heart beating quickly for an entirely different reason. “He’s nervous to meet you.”  
  
“Really? That man is nervous?”

She shrugs, her smile still on her lips. “I mean, yeah. He’s met David and Marg, but you’re the big fish.”

“And he’s also the first man you’ve brought home since Neal. Those are big shoes to fill.”

“Mom,” she starts, watching her place the candles in the cake, “that’s not what’s happening. He’s not…it’s different.”

“I know, I know. I didn’t mean it that way. It was difficult for me after David’s father died, but I was so much older. I wasn’t young like you with a baby. You were obviously going to date again. I didn’t mean – I didn’t mean that you were replacing Neal.”

“It’s fine,” she promises, reaching over to help light the candles to her birth cake, all twenty seven of them on there even if that’s far too many for one cake. “Let’s go see how much of this cake Henry is going to try to eat before we stop him.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

 “Hello, my darlings,” Ruth sighs as they all walk into the door, hugging Henry before she hugs Emma. “I have missed you.”

“I saw you on Saturday, Grandma.”

“Well it doesn’t mean I haven’t missed you.”

“I missed you too. Can I go play with Wilby?”

“He’s in my bedroom.”

Henry runs through the back hallways, his coat flapping behind him, and she can do nothing more than shake her head back and forth at how much energy that kid has.

“Is Killian already here?” she asks Ruth, putting her purse down on the floor. “I know he said he was already on his way, but I haven’t checked my phone.”  
  
“He’s in the living room. We were sharing a cup of tea.”

“Of course you were,” she laughs, wrapping her arm around her mom’s waist as they walk through the halls to get to the living room. “How has your day been? How was that case going with the girl whose parents died?”

“My day was good, better now that my babies are here, but the case was hard. I think I’ve found a good foster home for her, though. You remember the Darlings?”

“Of course I do. They led me to you.”

Ruth doesn’t say anything else, just pats her on the back before taking Ada out of her arms and carrying her into the living room where Killian is messing with his phone. This place is covered with toys for infants and for ten-year-olds, and the moment Ruth puts Ada on the ground, she crawls over to a giant colorful keyboard that they also have at home. It’s been her favorite thing recently, and she’s not sure if she prefers the sound of it or the sound of Ada hitting pots and pans. She likes to really bang on them, and whenever there’s a particularly loud noise, her nose squishes into her face as it scrunches up while she laughs.

The little menace.

“Hey, handsome,” she gushes, dipping down to press her lips against his, lingering a little longer than she should. “Did you have a good day?”

“I had a day,” he chuckles awkwardly, kissing her again before she sits down on the couch next to him, their thighs pressing together. “Rob’s computer lost some data we had been working on, so I spent the day first trying to get IT to restore it and when that didn’t work, we had to try to replot all of our arguments.”

“Did you guys have a breach? Isn’t that a big deal?”

“Wasn’t a breach,” Killian sighs, reaching down to tickle Ada on the back while she pounds on the keys. “It was a computer failure. I’m sure Rob will have to undergo an investigation for it even though what we were doing was technically hypothetical, but as you know – ”

“- it’s never hypothetical,” she finishes for him.

“Pretty much. What about you?”

“Boring.”

“Yeah? No kids had a meltdown or forgot to turn in all of their applications?”

“Well that happens every day,” she laughs. It really does. It’s part of her life.

She likes it.

Ada slams down on a key, letting out a giggle, at the same time that David and Mary Margaret walk in the room.

“Woah, woah, woah,” David begins, reaching down and picking Ada up before blowing a giant raspberry on her stomach. “I didn’t know we had Mozart in the room. I would have worn my best suit.”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to say anything, but your suit is awful dingy, Dave.”

“Shut it, Jones. I’m talking to your child prodigy.”

“Well, she does have my genes so how could she not be one?” She rolls her eyes at him and pats his leg, but all he does is look at her with a satisfied smile. “Hello, Mary Margaret. Isn’t there a third Nolan somewhere?”

“He went to see Wilby,” she answers before leaning down to kiss Ruth.

“Wilby is the most important of all of us.”

“Except for Ada, of course,” Ruth adds in. “Now that everyone’s here, I say we eat.”

“It’s not like we came here for you, love.”

“Hey,” she scolds, reaching back to slap his chest even if she knows he’s teasing. He and Ruth have a fantastic relationship, so her mom is fine with all of it. But still. “You’re supposed to be a gentleman.”

Killian leans closer to her, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “I’m _always_  a gentleman.”

“Good God, Jones,” David whines, “stop flirting with my sister.”

“I can’t help myself when she’s so damn pretty. Besides, I thought you yelled at me when I did stop flirting with her.”

The memories of that sting the slightest bit, but she knows that it’s over. Things between she and Killian still aren’t perfect, not that perfection is possible, and they spend a hell of a lot of time talking about it. But that’s a good thing. It’s helping for them to work on, well, them. And David has been such a supportive person for her ever since he helped her through her breakdown at Thanksgiving. Those few minutes still mean the world to her. She thinks that’s what’s helped keep her going through it.

“You’re right. You can keep flirting with her.”

“I plan to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're officially in kind of the second half of the story, so some more *things* are going to be happening as we move on 💕


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm nervous about this chapter because this is when the *things* start happening, and I'm very curious as to how you guys are going to feel about it! I hope you enjoy! 💕

There’s absolutely no reason for him to be running today. He doesn’t have the time. He should be in his office reviewing his presentation for tomorrow. He and Robin have spent weeks preparing “what if” scenarios for soldiers to have to run through in the new basic training regimes, and it’s been such a challenge having to form things for teaching instead of actual warfare. He’s been retired from the Navy for half a decade this year, and yet he still spends nearly every day of his life reliving scenes and memories of his time in the military. It’s a bit of the crux of being a career military man. When you get out, what are you qualified to do?

Not everyone has this problem. A lot of people go to school through the services and learn trades. He didn’t go to school, but he did learn a trade in logistics and planning to make sure that the ships didn’t go down in the middle of the night by some kind of Titanic shaped iceberg or an attack. It’s still what he does now, even as a civilian. He’d like to quit one day, to do something calmer, do something that doesn’t bring back so many memories of loss or bring forth so much stress, but this job pays well and supports his family. He can stay at least until Ada goes to college.

In seventeen years.

He’s going to be fifty-five in seventeen years. That’s odd for him to think about, but it’s exactly what he thinks of as his legs burn, the muscles and joints aching a bit more than they used to when he was younger. It’s usually not too bad, the running helping more than hurting, but some days it’s not as easy to hold his daughter above his head to make her giggle or to make love to Emma.

Just last week he’d gotten a cramp right in the middle of their activities, and Emma had laughed so hard that he had started laughing too.

Mostly he was laughing through the pain.

That cramp may still be going on in his right thigh.

It’s always an adventure.

And maybe one day it’ll be an adventure where he can take Emma sailing without any thoughts of war and the pros and cons of Norway randomly invading Afghanistan on a particular day or time.

So maybe that’s why he runs. He’s got a lot that he thinks about, personally and professionally, and the release of endorphins fuels him in a way. It stresses his joints, but it destresses his mind. Besides, he will admit that while he doesn’t think he’s a particularly vain man, he does appreciate the way Emma tugs on her bottom lip with her teeth when he lifts her from the ground or the way that she runs her fingers over the muscles of his stomach. Plus, he wants to be healthy for his kids.

That’s why he keeps running for the next thirty minutes, his legs pounding against the pavement and sweat beading at his forehead and down his back, the early February chill keeping him cool to a point where he knows he’ll start sweating more when he gets inside. It always happens, so it takes him a little while longer to cool down and to take a shower at the gym that’s around the block from his office.

“Jones,” a familiar voice calls to him when he’s just finished buttoning up his shirt, and he turns to look at Neal, his hair sopping wet like he’s just showered as well, “aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“I could say the same to you,” he laughs as he pushes his hair back, hoping that it’ll dry correctly since he doesn’t have any of his gel with me. “Lunch break?”

“Yeah, I don’t usually make it here, but it’s been kind of a slow day. Figured I’d eat while I work.”

“That’s how it goes,” he sighs. He bends down to lace his shoes, pulling up his socks the slightest bit before he turns to look back at Neal. “Hey, so Emma is dropping Henry off at my office, and I’m taking him to his therapy appointment. Do you want a ride?”

Neal’s really got to get a car, but now that he might be moving, he’s decided to put off the purchase until he knows for sure where he’s living. It’s likely a good thing. This way he can save up money and put as much down as possible without having to worry about making far too many payments with interest rates the way they are. And if he’s in DC, he may not even need a vehicle. It’s all complicated and still a bit messy, but he and Emma have made plans to sit down and talk to Neal sometime this week, possibly tonight, so that they can actually get through some of this. It’s odd basically regulating a grown man, one who is older than both of them, but they’re trying to figure out how to be a family. Sometimes that takes awkward conversations.

He’s not exactly looking forward to this particular conversation because he’s struggling with the thought that Henry might have to spend some time away from them. Emma is worrying herself sick about it, and she doesn’t even know what’s going to happen. Neither of them do. Hell, Neal likely doesn’t. If he’s honest with himself, Neal likely hasn’t put much thought into either. Killian’s not sure if it’s because Neal hasn’t realized that technically he has a right to having Henry live with him or if he doesn’t care.

Scratch that. Of course Neal cares. He loves Henry, but sometimes he thinks that Neal is more concerned about impressing Henry than being his father. Maybe he still doesn’t know how, maybe he doesn’t think he belongs as a part of their family. He can understand that. He felt that way for a long time, and it must still be difficult for Neal. It might not ever not be difficult, but all he and Emma want is for Neal to feel at home.

And be a father to Henry, to not worry about trying to be more fun or the one who gives better presents. He’s getting there. He really is, and maybe if he and Emma did a better job, Neal would feel more at home.

They’re trying. For as hard as it is on them, he also knows that it’s hard on Neal. So they’re all trying.

“His appointment is at five, yeah?”

“On the dot.”

Neal flashes him a grin while he rubs his hand over his scruff. “Yeah, I’d really appreciate that. Are you going to take me home afterwards or are you going to force me to walk?”

“I thought I’d make you walk. You’ve been letting yourself go, and I didn’t want to say anything.”

He barks out a laugh, the sound echoing throughout the locker room, and it makes Killian smile too, the corners of his lips tugging up.

“I could still take you in a fight, Jones.”

“Please,” he scoffs, tightening his laces one more time before standing up straight, “that never happened. I beat your ass in training every time.”

“Not on – ”

“October fifth.”  
  
“See, you remember?”

“Because you never let me forget about it,” Killian laughs, reaching down to pick up his bag. “It was all I heard for months. It’s been thirteen years, and you still don’t let me forget.”

Neal shrugs, his face still crinkled in happiness. “It was a damn good day. You even bought me a beer afterward.”

“Well, I figured since it was a one-time thing, it was the least I could do.” He takes a step over and claps Neal on the shoulder, smiling down at him. “I’ll see you at a quarter before five, and since I’m not evil, I’ll even let you ride home with Henry and me.”

“Such a saint.”

“I try.”

It’s a quick walk back to his office, and after saying hello to his secretary Anna, he settles down in his office and gets back to working on his proposal while eating the leftover pasta salad from dinner last night. He gets about two hours to himself to plow through things before Robin comes in, closing the door behind him and plopping down on the couch, the leather creaking beneath his weight.

“Are you almost finished with the coding for it? Because we need to send that down to Arthur for him to double check, especially since you’re leaving early.”

“I’ve got one section left,” he sighs, typing out one more scenario before rolling back in his chair and looking at Robin. “Did you come in here to procrastinate?”

“Most definitely.”

“So you’re whining about me leaving early because I have to take my kid somewhere, and yet you’re in here not doing your work?”

Robin shrugs and leans back further on the couch. “I already finished my section, mate. I literally can’t do anything else without you.”

“Aww, Rob, I always knew you loved me, but I never knew how much.”

“You’re an asshole,” he laughs, flicking a piece of paper in his direction.

“And yet you love me anyways.” He curls one side of his lips up into a smirk and winks at him, making sure to exaggerate it. “I really will be finished soon, and I’ll likely work through it tonight once everyone is asleep. Emma and I have a lot to do this evening, though.”

“I get it. I’ve got to go get Roland from his mom tonight, but we always get it done, yeah?”

“Aye,” he confirms. “Now get your ass off my sofa so I can finish this up in time.”

Robin mock salutes before walking away, leaving his office door open. It could be an accident, but Killian knows that Robin did it just to annoy him.

The wanker.

The rest of his day goes by as it normally does. He gets all of his program formatted and sends it off in time so that Arthur can run through the technicalities of it before sending it back to Robin. It’s a long, drawn out process, and when there’s a knock at his opened door, Emma and the kids standing there, he’s more relieved that he’s been in awhile to get to see all of them in the office.

“Hello loves,” he smiles as he gets up out of his chair, reaching down to hug Henry first before embracing Emma and briefly kissing her. “I can’t believe Anna let you in here with I specifically told her not to.”

“It’s because I’m super fast,” Henry explains, not at all amused by his joke.

“That you are. Did you have a good day at school, bud?”

“Yeah, but I need your help with fractions later. Mary Margaret made them weird.”

“Did she now?”

“Yeah, she said something about a pizza, but I didn’t get it.”

“It’s okay,” he promises, smiling at Henry to try to get him to perk up a little. “We’ll figure it out later. Do you want to get out your legos from my desk while I talk to Mum?”

Henry nods his head before dropping his backpack on the couch and hurrying over to get the box of toys Killian keeps in his bottom drawer for the times when Henry is here. Or even when Roland or someone else’s kid is stuck waiting while their parents work.

“I always hated fractions,” Emma sighs as she sways back and forth with a sleeping Ada. “And percentages. I still get those wrong sometimes.”

“We can’t all be geniuses like me.”

“Tone it down, Einstein,” she laughs, her lashes landing against her cheek. “But from what I can tell, Henry had a good day, Ada too, so I hope both of their appointments go well. I’ll call you after Ada and I get finished at the doctor.”

“I’m sure they’ll both be fine. Henry and I are going to pick up Neal and take him to his appointment too, okay?”

“When did that happen?”

“I ran into him at the gym and offered.”

Emma clicks her tongue and sighs a bit, her hands constantly running over Ada’s back. “That’ll be good. If you guys want to go out to get something to eat afterwards, that might be good too. Or maybe a snack since Henry has homework and we were going to talk to Neal tonight. Of course we could always talk to him tomorrow.”

He presses his lips together and reaches forward to caress her forearm, moving his fingers in a way similar to what Emma is doing to Ada. They’re both trying to comfort, even if it’s for different reasons. “We’ll talk to him, and it’s going to be fine. He’s not…we haven’t had many issues with him since we told him about us, and he’s grown a lot since then, yeah? He’s not going to try to take Henry away from you, from us.”

“I know that,” she whispers, looking over his shoulder to see Henry. “I really do. I’m nervous. I can’t help it.”

“I know, love. I know.” He leans forward and presses his lips to her temple. “Go take Ada to the doctor and maybe stop to get something you like to eat too.”

“That’s cute that you assume I wasn’t doing that already. Bye kid,” she tells Henry, waving at him. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye Mom,” he murmurs, not even looking up from his legos.

You can’t get between the boy and his legos.

He finishes up a few last things, checks to see how many emails he has that he needs to respond to before tomorrow, and then shuts his computer down before taking Henry out to the parking garage so that they can get Neal and drive downtown to their therapists’ offices. Henry gets stuck on talking about how Avery told him a restaurant by the pier serves Mickey Mouse waffles, and of course, that gets him to talk about Disney World and how Grace and Violet went with their families over Christmas break. He and Emma have talked about it before, but it’s expensive and they have an infant they’d have to cart around as well.

Maybe some other time.

Why take your kid to Disney World when you can take them to see a hell of a lot of history in Washington DC instead? At least, that’s what they’re telling Henry about their trip next month.

But Neal easily joins in on the conversation about Mickey shaped waffles and the pros and cons of Woody versus Buzz lightyear. Luckily for Neal, Henry likes a lot of the classic movies, so he hasn’t been subjected to watching every new movie to know what his son is talking about. He still has to watch a lot of them, but he’s got the basic knowledge of Toy Story and The Lion King down.

The Lego Movie was all new to him. That’s a favorite in the house.

(He may never be able to watch it without his ears hurting ever again with that damn song.)

After shuffling through traffic, he pulls into the parking lot of the office building and puts the car in park so that he can take Henry up to Dr. Hopper’s office, the two of them dropping Neal off on the second floor.

“So Momma goes to talk to someone, I go to talk to someone, and my dad talks to someone?” Henry asks in the elevator. “Why don’t you talk to someone?”

Kids. They ask the exact things you don’t want to be asked about.

“I used to,” he says after thinking about it for a minute, trying to answer as delicately as he can. “And I might again. Sometimes we need someone besides our mums and dads or our friends to talk to, and that’s why we talk to Dr. Hopper, yeah?”

“Yeah, he’s nice. He talks about you and Mom a lot.”

“We’re very interesting people.”

“Sometimes you guys are boring.”

He chuckles and pulls Henry into his side right when the elevator doors open to their floor, the two of them stepping out and walking to the receptionist’s desk to tell them they’re here for Henry. Dr. Hopper almost immediately walks out, which has never happened to him at any doctor’s appointment in his entire life, and Henry happily walks back in his office with him. He knows that Emma waits in the office when she takes him, but he needs to go fill up the car with gas. So he gets back in the elevator and walks out into the lobby while responding to one of his emails from work.

When he looks up, though, he stops in his tracks, instinct taking over as he folds back into a corner of the lobby while he watches Neal get into a car outside.

What?

_What the hell?_

Why is Neal getting into a car? Who is he getting into a car with? Is this some kind of therapy thing? They drive and talk? That’s new but maybe it’s a thing.

Bloody hell. It’s definitely not a thing.

Neal is skipping out on his therapy appointment and getting into a random car, and he has no idea why, the blood in his veins heating as confusion and worry courses through him.

He’s already swiping out of his email to call Neal and ask him if he’s okay, if something is wrong that he had to leave, but something stops him from doing anything. Some kind of inner instinct that he honed from years in the Navy and years as a father understanding when a child is lying to him stops him from reaching out and asking Neal where he’s going right now.

He doesn’t…he doesn’t understand, and with the way his mind works, he can’t focus on anything but running through all of the scenarios that might be happening, even the crazy ones. He seems to only be able to focus on the crazy theories which don’t even seem coherent in his mind as he twists them around and tries to make sense of his muddled thoughts.

Something catches in his throat, and he tries to swallow the gulp that’s there while his heart pounds against his ribcage, something constricting in a way that causes his breath to be a bit shortened. Or a lot. He might not be breathing right now. He’s still alive, so he’s definitely breathing. But he can feel heat spreading across his cheeks and goose bumps rising on his arms.

Fuck.

This isn’t right. Whatever is happening isn’t right. Somehow, without any rhyme or reason, he just _knows_ , and if he’s honest with himself as he has this psychological breakdown in the lobby of an office building, there are things that haven’t been right since the very beginning of Neal’s homecoming. He’s noticed them. Of course he has. But his kids, his relationship with Emma, and making sure that Neal has had an easy transition back into society have been his focus so that he hasn’t put too much thought into everything else. He screwed things up so badly with Emma, to the point where she might not have wanted to be with him ever again, and all he’s wanted was to get back on track with her, to make sure that she knows that he loves her more than his own life. All he’s wanted was to make sure that Ada is still growing as much as she should and that Henry is okay after going through such a transition both at home and at school.

All he’s wanted is for everyone to be okay, Neal included.

This, how he’s feeling, how he’s thinking, is not okay.

But maybe it is. Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe he’s imagining things.

He’s not imagining things. He can’t be. He’s not crazy. His mind is fully functional. He knows what’s in front of his eyes, and he just watched Neal get into a random car when he’s supposed to be at therapy.

Shit. He should have gotten the license plate.

Why would he get the license plate? What would he do with that? To look up to see if the Uber driver Neal is using is registered on the site? Is it an Uber driver? Maybe it’s a friend. Maybe Neal didn’t feel like talking about things with his therapist today so he called a friend? Why would he do that? Why would he hide that from them?

Then again, why wouldn’t he hide that from them? Emma would make him go, would be upset if she knew that he wasn’t going, so maybe that’s it. He needed a break from talking. Killian understands that. There were days when he used to hate going to therapy as well.

But…

He’s got no bloody clue what’s happening.

It’s likely nothing, and this is just his paranoia and anxiety stepping up when he’s been living in a pretty stressful situation for a long while. Maybe it’s a bit of confusion, but maybe it’s just another thing about Neal that doesn’t add up when he truly thinks about it. Maybe it’s something. Maybe it can explain why Neal’s handling his PTSD better than anyone he’s ever seen. Maybe it can explain why none of Neal’s scars were fresh, why all of them had years to heal. Maybe it can explain why Neal is so hell bent on being an American hero and spending his time in DC. In working in the government even when the government failed him so spectacularly. Maybe it can explain why Neal seems to always be gone, to never be home on time. Maybe it can explain Neal knowing things he shouldn’t know. It’s only been a few things, a few random, unimportant things, but Neal knows things that he shouldn’t since he has been in captivity for eight years.

Or maybe it can’t explain anything. Neal was captured by Al-Qaeda almost a decade ago, and that’s where he’s been. He’s been through a tragedy, and he gets to be home and back with his family, even if it’s a little different than the way he thought it would be. Neal was captured, and he is a hero. That’s what’s happened.

But what if it’s not?

That’s preposterous. That’s the most insane thought he’s ever had, and Neal getting in a car to skip out on therapy doesn’t mean _anything_.

All of his thoughts are starting to sound like people who believe in conspiracy theories, and he is not that kind of man. He is too logical for all of this. He’s simply stressed and a little short staffed after a hectic day at work and the impending conversation about his son’s living situation. All he needs is to take a few deep breaths and calm himself down so that his mind stops working in overdrive.

His phone starts ringing in his hand and he sees Emma’s scrunched up smiling face from where he’d just kissed her cheek before she snapped the picture. She put it in his phone as her contact name, and it makes him smile nearly every time.

She makes him smile.

“Hello, love,” he greets, clenching his jaw and attempting to calm himself down from the race that his mind is currently running. He hates when he gets like this. It’s helpful at work but not now.

“Hey, babe. So guess who is the father of a perfectly healthy nine-month-old baby girl?”

“I sure as hell hope it’s me.”

“I mean, obviously I was just calling you to tell you about a random baby.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Exactly,” Emma laughs, her voice so light that it nearly breaks him apart thinking about everything that’s just happened. It has to be nothing. It’s just a weird coincidence, a misunderstanding. All of these odd little things happening over the past few months with Neal have been misunderstandings. They can’t be more. They can’t for Emma’s sake, for Henry’s. Emma doesn’t need to go through anything else. She needs to be happy. He’s overreacting in the biggest of ways. He’s got to cut back on coffee. “But seriously, Ada is growing just fine. She’s nineteen pounds and twenty seven inches. Dr. Kay said the only thing was that we need to try some more different textured foods, so I’m going to run by Whole Foods and get some of the things on this list we got.”

“That’s wonderful, love. I’m glad she’s healthy.”

He’s more than glad. He’s so relieved. He knows of all the things that can go wrong in young children, and it’s the biggest comfort knowing that his child is okay. She once had a high fever, just a few weeks after she was born, and that was one of the most nerve-wracking moments of his life.

“You and me both. Sometimes I get so worried about her. Like, it’s so easy to mess things up, and I don’t want to do that.”

“Swan,” he sighs, smiling the slightest bit because he can’t help himself when it comes to her, “you are the best mum on the planet. There’s no competition.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

“I’m dying,” Emma groans, adjusting herself in bed again, kicking around the pillows at her feet.

“I’m sure that’s not true, love.”

Emma’s eyes basically turn into black slits, and he immediately inches away from her, putting space between them so that she doesn’t punch him. He likely deserves it.

“I have heartburn that is killing me. Actually killing me. I forgot about this.”

“Do you need something?” he asks softly, reaching over to her and rubbing his fingers into her arm while she still twists and turns on the bed.

“I think I’m going to just lay here and suffer in my misery, but if you want to get the remote for me, that’d be wonderful.”

“Now that I can do.”

He puts his book down on his bedside table before moving the covers off of his legs and rising from the bed to take the few steps toward the television and the remote that’s resting on its stand. He picks it up and tosses it over toward the bed so that it bounces on the mattress toward Emma. She quickly picks it up and turns the television on, flipping through channels.

“I’m going to go get some tea, Swan. Do you want anything?”

“Water. And some more Tums.”

“As you wish.”

It’s still early, the sun having barely risen, so he’s surprised when he finds Henry in the kitchen standing on his step stool as he looks through the cabinets. Usually he sleeps in on Saturdays, and they always hear the floor creak when he walks past their bedroom.

“What are you looking for?”

“Food,” Henry shrugs, not at all shocked by Killian’s presence. “Where did all of our good stuff go?”

“There’s plenty of good stuff in there,” he scoffs, stepping over to look in the cabinet with Henry. “Do you want some oatmeal? Cheerios? What about some scrambled eggs? I don’t think Mum is feeling up to one of our big Saturday breakfasts.”

“I thought babies are supposed to make people more hungry. That’s what Avery says.”

“Isn’t Avery an only child?”

“Yeah, but he’s smart.”

“Of course he is,” he laughs, grabbing Henry by the waist and plopping him down on the kitchen island so that he’s away from all of the appliances. “I can fix you something to eat, and we’ll go upstairs and eat it in my room, yeah?”

“I thought I couldn’t eat in my room.”

“But you can in my room when I say so, and I think your mummy needs some extra snuggles with you this morning.”

“Why? She’s already got the baby.”

Oh shit. He’s been expecting this, but he wasn’t really expecting it until after the baby was here and a lot of their time was spent focusing on her. He most definitely wasn’t expecting it now when Emma’s five months along and Henry has known he was getting a sibling for two months.

This is going to be one of those moments where he terribly screws things up, isn’t it?

“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to spend time with you,” he says softly, making sure to be extra careful with his words while he closes the kitchen cabinets.

“But all she talks about with other people is the baby.”

“Mum is excited, lad,” he sighs, leaning back against the counter and studying Henry’s face, wishing his lips weren’t curled down. “I thought you were too. You’re going to be a big brother just like Liam is to me and David is to your mum.”

“I am excited,” he mumbles underneath his breath while messing with his t-shirt, the picture of someone who is not excited, “but what if you and Momma love my sister more than you love me?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, stepping forward and wrapping Henry up in a hug even as Henry squirms away from him a bit before finally wrapping his arms around his back, “that’s just not true. We love you so much, Henry, and that’s never going to change, okay? Yes, you’re going to have to share your time with us with your sister, but I promise that we will love you just as much.”

“Are you still going to come to my soccer games?” he sniffles, burying his head in Killian’s shoulder.

“Every Saturday afternoon. I will be there for as much as I can. And when your sister is big enough, she’s going to be there to cheer you on every Saturday as well.”

“Is she gonna be able to yell like Momma does?”

“Oh most definitely,” he laughs, leaning back so that he can look in Henry’s eyes, his little brows no longer furrowed and his lips beginning to curve up. “She’s going to be a big yeller. She’s going to be a lot smaller than you, but we’re still going to do a lot of fun things. I always wanted a little sister, and you’re so lucky to get one.”

“You wanted a little sister?”

“Of course I did,” he answers, pulling the eggs out of the refrigerator so he can make some scrambled eggs. “When you have a younger sibling, you get to teach them all kinds of things.”

“Like what?”

“Well, you can teach her to play soccer and to draw those cool pictures of yours. She’ll need a lot of help at first, like learning to walk and talk, and you can help her with that. You can also tell her stories like I do to you.”

“I think she’ll like Captain Underpants.”

He snickers under his breath as he cracks an egg open on the pan. “I think she might.”

“Will she like TV?”

“Who doesn’t like TV?”

“Grandma sometimes.”  
  
“Well your grandma is just a silly goose,” he laughs, moving his spatula around a bit while adding some pepper. “But yeah, bud, she’s going to like all of those things, and you can help your mum and I take care of her so that her favorite person in the world is her big brother Henry.”

He and Henry keep talking about all of the things that Henry can do with his sister once she’s born, even if a few of them are a little far-fetched. But it’s a nice way to keep Henry excited, to make him be happy again when he’s apparently been a little down about it. He’ll have to talk to Emma about this later, to let her know what’s going on, and maybe they’ll be able to figure out a better way to talk to him about everything than his on the fly conversation with Henry. He also needs to tell her that today is definitely not the day to tell Henry about Neal. They’ve been working on that ever since they found out Emma was pregnant, and it was finally going to happen this afternoon. They had this whole plan, something researched and practiced and thought through, but if Henry’s struggling with a little jealousy, now is not the time for him to find out that Killian isn’t actually his father.

It’s never going to be easy, especially for Emma and Henry, but they have to do it. Henry deserves to know about Neal. Neal’s memory deserves to be honored through his son. It’s a difficult balance for him to not step on toes, to make sure that he does what’s right for Henry. He’s not his biological father. He never will be. But that’s their life, and biology doesn’t mean a damn thing to him when he loves this kid as much as anything.

But Henry should also get to know about his biology and all of the sacrifices and love that Neal made and gave for Henry and for their country in general.

He should know that his dad is a hero.

Just not today.

“Alright,” he sighs, handing Henry a bowl of mixed berries while he holds the eggs and his tea, “let’s go sit with Mum and make her feel better.”

Henry nods his head before running up the stairs, nearly dropping his bowl, but he catches himself and busts through their bedroom door, leaving the door wide open as Killian follows in behind him.

“Hey, kid,” Emma greets, sitting up a little bit and flipping the channel to something else, “what are you doing up?”

“Daddy and I made breakfast, but it’s not for you.”

“Really now? Why not?”

“You’re not hungry.” He climbs up onto the mattress and crawls over to Emma, sitting himself right in her side was she wraps her arm around his shoulder. It’s one of his favorite sights in the world, and it gets so much better by the curve of Emma’s stomach under her tank top. “So this is all for me and Daddy.”

“What did we just say about sharing?” He laughs, settling down on the bed as well.

“Oh yeah.” Henry looks from him to looking at Emma who’s got a soft smile on her face as one hand rests on her belly and the other hand messes with Henry’s hair. “My sister and I are going to be best friends like Daddy and Liam, and I’m going to teach her how to play soccer.”

“You are? Do you think she’ll be able to kick goals like you?”

“Maybe not as good as me.”

“She’ll need lots of practice,” Emma laughs. “Soon she’s going to be able to kick my belly, so I think she’s already trying to catch up to you.”  
  
“I have to go practice,” Henry gasps, moving to get out of the bed only for Emma to yank him back down and pull him further into his side.

“Not quite yet, kid. I want you to cuddle with me because I love you so much.”  
  
“I love you too,” Henry says as he squirms, finally settling into Emma’s side and resting his head against her shoulder. He’s just about to pick up his tea and try to find them something else to watch when Henry looks at him with this big cheesy grin on his face as he loudly whispers, “she does want to cuddle with me.”  
  
“I told you so,” he promises as he reaches over to grab Henry’s hand.

 

* * *

* * *

 

“I think you might be a bit biased,” she gushes, the sound of Ada faintly filtering through in the background.

“Well, I am rather in love with you.”

“You sentimental sap,” Emma laughs. “I love you too. Let me know when you guys are on the way home, okay?”

“I will.”

When the call ends, he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down more. He needs to get a grip, to ground himself. Emma grounds him, her voice, her face. She steadies him when he’s the furthest thing from steady.

She’s… _everything_.

He’s overreacting. He has to be. Neal is allowed to live his own life. They’re encouraging him to live his own life, and that’s the thought process he maintains as he sits down in the lobby, completely forgetting about the fact that he needs to go get gas or respond to the rest of his emails. Instead of doing anything productive he sits in silence and watches as people move in and out of the building, the gentle closing of the glass doors followed by the click of heels on the tile, the sound only dying out when they get into the elevator.

That sound is what he focuses on, counting the steps it takes for different people to walk the same distance, and when he looks down at his phone and sees that it’s nearly six, he stands from his chair and makes his way back to the elevator bay, loading onto the cart with a woman and her children who are going to the same floor that he is. Henry is already waiting for him when he gets there, and the smile on his face calms him the slightest bit. He’s happy. That’s good. That means the session went well.

“Hey,” he waves, placing his hand on Henry’s back and guiding him out of the office. “Did you have a nice time? Anything you want to talk about with me?”

“Nope. I already told Dr. Hopper about how we can’t go to Disney World.”

“When your sister is older, kid,” he starts. “When your sister is older.”

Neal is waiting for them in the lobby when they get to the lobby again, his foot tapping against the floor, and even though he’s told himself to drop it, to drop all of the wild thoughts that are running through his mind, he can’t. Neal’s come back just in time for him to not know that he left.

Damn it.

If he had stayed in the lobby he could have seen him coming back.

What would he have said? Where the hell did you go? Why aren’t you in therapy? Is everything okay? Are you hiding something? What’s happening?

(He’s lost his mind and needs to get a grip.)

He could say all of those things. He could. he knows the words, knows how to speak, but none of them fall off of his tongue. He doesn’t want to be accusatory when there’s most likely nothing going on, and he’s going to continue operating that way until he knows for sure. There’s a tentative tightrope that they’re all walking on, and he’s not going to be the one to push them off of it because he’s lost his mind.

So he doesn’t say anything when they get in the car or when they stop and let Henry get a smoothie. He doesn’t say anything when they get home and help Henry do his homework, the two of them trying to explain fractions to him. He doesn’t say anything when they eat dinner, and he doesn’t say anything afterwards when they’re all watching TV while he does eventually finish up working on his emails. And he doesn’t say anything when Henry and Ada are put down to bed.

And he especially doesn’t say anything when he, Emma, and Neal sit down to talk about whether or not Neal is going to take the job in DC.

He is. He wants to do it. He’s determined to do it, to make a difference in the world now that he knows what it’s like to have a second chance at life. And when Emma very tentatively asks him what he wants to do about Henry, Neal tells them that while it’s not ideal, he’ll be happy to come home for every holiday that he can and every weekend that he can and that they don’t have to send Henry to DC by himself. He tells them that he doesn’t want Henry’s life to be disrupted any more than it’s already been. He tells them every single thing that a loving father who both wants to do good for his kid and good for himself would say.

And Killian is positive that he means it. Emma is even more so. She’s so good at reading others, her little superpower developed over years of careful use, and he’s got to trust that she’s able to use it with Neal. He knows that sometimes she can be wrong, but he’d bet that she’s right nearly every time.

He’d trust her over everything.

So while he’s calmed a bit over possibly losing Henry, over Henry being hurt at never seeing his dad (something he’s still worried about if he’s honest with himself), he can’t turn his mind off. He can’t make the thoughts stop, the theories cease from forming, the worries festering. And when they’re in bed and Emma starts trailing her lips up the cords of his neck, instead of melting against her touch, he pulls back, turning his body away from her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks quietly, her voice barely a whisper above the hum of the ceiling fan.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” he lies, twisting a bit so that he can see her face, see the worry in her eyes.

“Are you mad at me?”

How can he ever be mad at Emma when he’s mad at himself for thinking that Neal, this man they all love, isn’t telling the full truth? How could he ever be mad at Emma when he’s so mad at himself for nearly every thought he’s had today? How could he…how could he think something so absurd that would hurt everyone he knew if he ever said the words out loud?

How can he be thinking any of this?

“No,” he promises, reaching over to her and resting his thumb in the indent of her chin, making sure that she can see the seriousness in his gaze, “how could I ever be mad at you?”


	15. Chapter Fifteen

“Dad, last time we were on an airplane Mom threw up in my pretzel bag.”

Neal looks over to her with a raised brow as they walk through the airport terminal, people quickly passing them with their suitcases rolling behind them, half of the wheels squeaking against the battered tile floor. “Did she? That’s kind of gross.”

“It was so gross,” Henry continues skipping a bit ahead of them, his backpack bouncing on his back so that all of his belongings jiggle around. “She said that it was all Ada’s fault.”

“Morning sickness,” she explains to Neal while Ada squirms in her bjorn. She wants to be able to crawl around and prop herself up on all of the chairs, but now is unfortunately not the time for that. Now is obviously just the time for Emma’s back to hurt because of how big this kid is getting. “The last time we went on a trip we went to London to visit Liam and Belle, and I was very early on in my pregnancy. So naturally the worst of the vomiting took place on a plane.”

“So I bet you love flying then?”

“Well, last time I couldn’t stop throwing up and this time I have a baby, which means that she’s obviously going to scream the entire time and everyone will hate us.”  
  
“They won’t hate us, love,” Killian not-so-helpfully supplies. “People know that babies cry.”  
  
“Doesn’t make it any less obnoxious when the wailing won’t stop.”

She opens her mouth to say something back to Neal, but then Henry is stopping in front of them, his feet practically skidding across the tile. “Dad, look at that plane. It’s huge.”

“How many people do you think fit in there, kid?” Neal asks, taking a few steps forward so that he’s in line with Henry while she falls back a step to walk next to Killian as he tugs along their carry-on and the stroller. People might not hate them for the screaming baby, but they’ll hate them for taking up overhead space. They should have just checked the thing.

“You excited to go back to our old stomping grounds, Swan?”

She’s a bit wary about it if she’s honest with herself, but they’re going for spring break and to let Henry see where Neal is now officially going to be living. It’s a good thing, and she’s going to enjoy it. She’s determined to. If not for her, for Henry.

“A little. I mean, there’s a lot of memories there, but I figured we’d go full on tourist and take Henry to all of the monuments, do one of those fake photos where he’s shaking George Washington’s hand. Really live it up. Henry will love that. Is that history buff mind of yours all geared up to tell him the stories?”

“You insult me, Swan. You know that I come prepared. And if I forget something, I’m sure there’s a brochure or two to help me.”

“If you ever need another job, I bet you would make an excellent tour guide.”

“Ah, yes, the Brit who shows people around America’s capital.”

“The British-American war veteran who shows people around America’s capital,” she corrects, looking up at him and smiling while he keeps looking straight ahead, the defined line of his jaw in her vision. “And who looks damn good doing it. I’ll write you a trip advisor review and mention just how hot you are so that you get lots of customers.”

He scoffs at that, the slightest bit of laughter in the sound. “I would think that my brain would be the thing my little followers are interested in.”

“Oh it will be. It’s a very sexy thing that I am very much in love with. I just like looking at your face is all.”

Killian smiles down at her, his eyes crinkling with affection, and she wonders what her life would be like if he looked at her like that for the rest of her life. She’s got no idea how he expresses such emotion with only his face, but sometimes it takes her breath away.

“That’s a good thing because I like looking at my face too.”

“You are devilishly handsome after all.”

They all easily board the plane, even if it takes a few minutes to check the stroller at the gate instead of putting it in the overhead, and thankfully, Ada doesn’t have a meltdown during the flight. Killian spends most of the time reading to her while Emma holds her in her lap, and Ada is thoroughly entertained by the bright pictures and pop up sections. Emma can tell that she still wants to move around and crawl, but she is not about to let her kid move around on the floor of an airplane. That’s a recipe for getting sick, and that’s the last thing that she wants.

But they do eventually land at Raegan and load up into a cab to be taken to the hotel. They’ll probably take the metro for the rest of the week, but they can spend the money on a cab when they have all of these bags. It’s weird to be back in the city, even if they are in the actual metropolitan instead of just outside in Alexandria. It’s been…exactly four years since she last lived here, and she could probably still get around the city without even thinking about it.

Except there is no way for her to simply not think about it. This place is so full of world history, the good and the bad, and it’s the same for her personal history. She went to school here, which is something she is still so proud of when she thought that was something she would never do. She got to be someone on her own, someone new who was making something of herself. She fell in love here after meeting Neal at a bar when she was still too young to meet men at bars, but, really, they probably fell in love at the Little Red Fox café on the corner of Connecticut Avenue. The name of the place had been so ridiculous, but it’s where Neal took her on their first official date and charmed her by telling her all about his adventures overseas.

This city is where she had this great love story that she was so swept up in that she didn’t see the things about it that didn’t make it so great. But it was full of so much goodness, and she can’t forget about that. Sha can’t forget about the years that Neal made her happy. She can’t forget that he’s the one who has given her Henry.

She can’t forget.

She also can’t forget that this is the place where her world fell apart, where she was told that her husband was missing, where she was told that he was most likely dead, where she believed that he was dead. This is the place where she realized that she’d be raising their son by herself.

This is the place.

It’s also where she met Killian, where she let him support her, where she fell in love with him.

So being back here is jarring and a bit…she doesn’t know how she feels as their car drives through crowded streets, avoiding all of the downtown traffic and tourist areas as much as possible. The weirdest thing, though, is that Neal is here, in this city, and that he’s coming back.

She thought he was gone forever, and he’s not.

He’s here. He’s here. He’s here.

And yet he’s leaving she and Henry again. This time by choice. It’s another thing that she doesn’t completely understand, but she’s trying to be as supportive as she can. He’s been through so much, and he needs to be happy. She needs him to be happy.

“Is this where you’re gonna live?” Henry asks as they walk into their hotel, the high ceiling vaulted up as light filters through the windows.

“No, I’m going to live in an apartment,” Neal tells him, taking his hand and walking with Henry as they make their way to the front desk. “I might live in a hotel for a little while until I can move my things in, not that I really have things yet.”

“I’ll draw you a picture that can go on your wall.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

Neal checks them into their rooms for the week. They’ve got a bed for Henry in their room, as did Neal, so he’ll be switching between the rooms this week. She has a feeling that he’ll only stay one night with Neal before he freaks out being away from her, but who knows? He could surprise her. He tends to do that, especially as he’s growing up and becoming a bit braver in the things that he does.

She’s got a good kid. She’s proud of the way she’s raised him.

Once they get into the room, she simply puts all of Ada’s bags on the ground and gets out what she needs to change her diaper while Killian unpacks their clothes and puts them in the closet and the dresser. He’s quite possibly the only person she knows who does that at hotels, but she’s learned not to tease him about it. It gets him all huffy and rushed, so she lets him put their things away. Besides, he’s the one who packs them all up again, so it’s not like it causes any extra stress for her.

It's actually more convenient, not that she’d ever admit that.

 

* * *

* * *

 

 “Killian,” she moans when his tongue runs over her most sensitive spot, her hips arching into the air as much as she can with the extra weight that’s weighing her down. “Oh shit, oh shit. That, keep doing that.”

He growls against her core, the vibrations running over every inch of her body, but like instructed, he doesn’t change a thing. He keeps flicking his tongue against her flesh, kissing her with his lips and his tongue and his _teeth_. God, he’s so good at this. It’s unfair. Like, he should not be this good, but she’s really not going to complain when she gets to be the recipient. And slowly but surely her release starts to unfurl, moving from her center and outward as she melts into the bed and the blankets that her hands are holding onto for dear life.

This is good. Wonderful. Fantastic.

She’d really like for him to do that again and again and again.

But she’s really hungry.

Before she can raise her head from her pillow, Killian’s moving up her body, kissing her inner thigh, the skin still sensitive, and moving up her stomach and to her breasts, lightly kissing the rounded curves before he’s gently dragging his teeth up her neck. Finally he lands on her lips, lazily kissing her mouth all the while his hands keep moving at her breasts and down her stomach.

She might actually become one with this hotel bed if this keeps going on like this.

There would be no complaints coming from her, even if her back hurts a little bit.

So that’s a little complaint.

“You are the most glorious woman I have ever known,” he murmurs against her lips before dragging his teeth over her jaw. “Everything from the way you moan my name when you come undone to the way that your right pinky toe is a little oddly shaped.”

“Your kid might have that pinky toe.”

“And it’ll be my favorite of all of her toes,” he sighs before rolling off of her and onto his back.

“Do I – do we – ”

“No,” he answers before she can even finish the question, the mattress moving underneath her as Killian sits up and nudges her head over onto his stomach. “Your stomach has been growling like mad, and you apparently need to eat again. I can have my turn later, or not at all, but you need to eat.”

“A man who puts food over sex. Are you the perfect man? Have I finally found you?”

She sees the blush rise on his cheeks before he’s reaching down and playfully pinching her nose before his hands starts running over her stomach, tracing the curve that’s been driving her crazy lately. She’s happy, but damn, pregnancy is a bitch.

The miracle of life or whatever.

“I’m possibly the furthest thing away from perfect,” Killian whispers, and she looks up in time to see the tick of his jaw as his gaze moves from her stomach to the ceiling. “You know that.”

“Hey,” she sighs, placing her hands over his and holding him to where Ada is kicking. The tiny little flutters have turned into full on sucker punches, but they’re gentle enough right now. When it’s three in the morning, that will be another story. “Killian Jones, I love you. You are my best friend on this planet, and I choose to see the best in you every day just like you do to me.”

“I know but I – Emma, you know me. You know my past. I used to drink too much, to sleep with too many women, to aide in killing others with my job. I – I’m not the perfect man.”

She’s aware of the face that she’s still naked, that her body is still completely exposed to him when he’s still mostly clothed, but her vulnerability doesn’t seem anything like the one that she’s suddenly found Killian in.

“I was kidding, babe. I – ” She slowly moves to sit up, shuffling around the bed until she can face him, tugging a blanket up around her shoulders as her sweat dries and the air conditioning begins to chill her. Killian’s still looking away, his jaw still ticking, and her worry keeps building until he tangles their fingers together. “I know you’re not perfect. Neither of us are. What’s running through that head of yours?”

“It’s idiotic, Swan. Drop it.”

“I’m not going to drop it when you’re obviously hurting.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he barks, and she practically flinches, releasing his hand and scooting away from him while tears well in her eyes, one quickly escaping and rolling down her cheek.

“Killian – ”

“I’m going to take a shower.” He quickly gets up from the bed and moves to the bathroom, closing the door behind him as the water immediately turns on, the pipes rumbling to life all the while she’s still confused as to what the hell just happened.

What the hell did just happen?

She doesn’t…Killian literally just spent minutes with his head buried between her thighs after they went out to dinner and for a walk around the city, and then they were…talking. They were talking, weren’t they? They were talking about food because her stomach is somehow still growling, and then he…then he got pissed and stormed into the bathroom.

Now she’s sitting naked in the bed with her thighs still tingling a bit and tears rolling down her face because she’s seven months pregnant and has no idea what’s happening. None, and she can’t seem to figure it out even as she gets up off of the bed and goes to the dresser to grab a pair of pajama shorts and one of Killian’s t-shirts since most of hers don’t fit her right now. Well, they do, but they’re not oversized anymore.

They’re only in this hotel for a night so that they can have this mini babymoon, something she finds a little ridiculous, but when David and Mary Margaret offered to take Henry so she and Killian could have some time to themselves, she accepted it without question. Why Killian put away their clothes when they’re only here for a night, she doesn’t really know. She thought maybe he only did that when they were staying in a hotel for a long time.

She thought she was going to want more time, but since she and Killian are apparently now in an argument, she doesn’t know if she even wants tonight. It’s not like there’s anywhere either of them can go besides the bedroom or the bathroom.

Ada kicks in her stomach at the same time that it growls, and she presses her hand down on the spot where she seems to be determined to burst through skin. It’s so uncomfortable, but considering she gets nervous when she’s not kicking, she’ll take it.

“Are you hungry, bug?” she wonders aloud, wandering over to the menu that room service offers and flipping it open. “Mommy is hungry and kind of feeling like eating everything down in this kitchen. Would you be okay with that? Would you give me heartburn if I did that?”

She keeps talking to her stomach as she continues to flip through the menu, eventually ordering a cheeseburger and some onion rings plus a salad and some fruit for Killian since she knows the he probably doesn’t want food but she feels bad not getting anything for him. She’ll share if he does want something. It’s too expensive for her to order him something he might not eat.

Maybe she should have gotten him an omelet or something.

No, no. it’s fine. This is what he would want. It’s exactly what he would do, and she closes the book and refuses to think that she’s somehow messed up again, not that she’s entirely sure that she messed up the first time.

She’s not really sure of anything right now.

Scratch that.

She’s sure that she has to pee.

Of course she has to pee. She’s pregnant. She always has to pee, but of all the times, couldn’t her bladder have waited when her the only available bathroom is the one her boyfriend is currently sulking in?

Maybe she could go down to the lobby.

The thought alone has her bladder practically scream at her, and before she can think too much about it, she’s opening the bathroom door, thankful that Killian didn’t lock it, and wandering inside so that she can pee.

“Swan, what are you – ”

“Going to the bathroom,” she huffs, sitting down all the while she can see Killian showering through the glass pane. Usually it’d be an attractive site, but she’s miserable and mad and doesn’t care what he looks like with water dripping down the muscles of his torso.

Killian doesn’t say anything else, and she ignores the feel of his eyes on her until she’s up and washing her hands. She’s got mascara running down her cheeks, and she takes the time to wipe it off and make herself look like less of a deranged raccoon while the shower water shuts off and Killian steps out, a towel resting low on his hips as he dries his hair off.

Dammit. He’s really hot.

“Swan, you’re going to rub that skin dry if you keep doing that.”

“My eyeliner won’t come off.”

“You’ve got to – ”

“I know how to remove makeup,” she bites back, all of her anger and confusion that she’s been stewing in for the past few minutes coming to life over her eyeliner.

“Darling – ”

“No,” she cries, dropping her cloth and turning to look up at him, trying to straighten her back as much as she can to make herself taller, “you don’t get to storm off all upset and leave me confused and then try to comfort me and be sweet to me. That’s not how this works.”

“How does it work? You get to be in charge and you get to yell at me for needing time?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s what you said.”

“Why are you upset?” She slaps her hands against her thighs before bringing them up to wipe at her cheeks as more tears fall. “We were talking about food, and then you…then you left. Why?”

Killian looks up at the ceiling, his jaw visibly clenching, and she watches as a drop of water from his hair trails down his cheek and falls to his balled-up fist. “You called me perfect.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

“You called me perfect,” he repeats, looking down to her with glassy blue eyes, sadness practically brimming to the surface. “You called me – ” He reaches up and runs his hand over his jaw, his fingers tapping against his chin, and she has to focus on her breathing to calm herself down before she sobs again. “I know that it was in jest, love, that it was a throwaway statement, but I’ve been struggling a bit lately with some of my issues, especially with the baby.”

“Do you not want her?”

The words escape her before she can stop them, her old insecurities and issues coming out as well, but Killian doesn’t let her spiral before he’s pulling her into his embrace as much as he can, the warmth of his chest and arms enveloping her as her chest heaves and she has to stop herself from heaving her dinner.

“I want her more than anything,” he promises, the words spoken directly in her ear so that the vibrations of his voice ghost down her spine. “I want you more than anything, Henry too. I don’t want you to ever doubt that, and if I do, I’m not doing my job.”

“What’s wrong then?”

“I’m scared, Emma,” he whispers, his hand rubbing up and down her back while hers stay still on his, the fear practically paralyzing her. “I had a shit excuse of a father and then again with my step-father, so I have no examples as to how a man should treat his children or his wife…his partner. I know you and Henry love me, that you both think the world of me, but I’m not perfect. I make mistakes all of the time, and I’m terrified that I’m going to do that with our child so that I let both you and her down.”

“Killian,” she sighs, the damn tears stinging in her eyes again while she pulls back and reaches up to cup his face, holding his gaze to hers, “you’re not going to. Of course you’re going to mess up. We both are. We’ve done it with Henry, and look how good he is. You’re not perfect, but I promise I’d never ask you to be. I love you just as you are, and if you keep on loving me and our kids in the same way that you already do, everything will be fine.”

There’s a knock on the door, and Killian’s brow raises before she lets him go and backs up.

“Room service,” she explains, quickly exiting the bathroom to open the door and get their tray of food, setting it down on the little desk that’s in the room.

Killian steps out of the bathroom as well and makes his way to the dresser so that he can slip on some pajama pants, the plaid now covering his legs, before he walks toward the tray and lifts the lid on it.

“I’m guessing the salad isn’t for you.”

“It’s yours if you want it. I knew you wouldn’t want a big meal because we did just eat dinner, but I didn’t want to not get you anything. And I’ll share.”

“Aye,” he laughs, reaching down and picking up an onion ring before taking a large bit, “you will. Thank you, love.”

“Do you want to,” she starts, looking up at him with her lips pressed together while Ada kicks her stomach, “sit on the bed and eat to talk some more? I know this is not how we imagined our night, but I think we have some stuff to talk about.”

“I’d like that.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

 They don’t stay in the hotel for long, really only staying for enough time to unpack, before they’re all walking back outside and finding a metro stop so that they can make their way to dinner. She doesn’t miss riding the metro, especially now that she thinks of all of the germs that Henry can pick up from holding onto the polls and that Ada can pick up from simply existing, but this is the best way to get around when they don’t want to walk enough to work up a sweat. Henry may very well think it’s the coolest thing in the world, though, so she has an even stronger feeling they’ll be riding it all week.

“How’s it feel to be back?” Neal asks her as they walk the rest of the way to the Bulletin, nearly echoing Killian’s words from earlier.

“Weird,” she answers honestly, reaching forward to grab Henry’s hand so he doesn’t wander off into the street. “I think it’ll get weirder the more places we go. Is that what it was like when you first started coming back?”

“To be fair, every place has been weird for me to come back to.” Neal flashes her his boyish smile, even with the gray in his beard, before she laughs and pats his forearm. “But yeah, it definitely was, but the first thing I did was go to that dessert place, Captain Cookie – ”

“ – and the Milkman,” she finishes for him, practically groaning as she tugs Henry back and looks behind her to make sure they haven’t lost Killian as he carries Ada. “That place was the best. We’ll have to take you there, kid.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s got cookies and superheroes,” Neal tells him. “You’d love it. There’s a lot of good places to eat we’ll have to take you after we go to the museums.”

“Daddy said there’s a museum where I can be a spy.”

“That’s a good one. We can go there. There’s also the Smithsonian, which has a lot of things you can see like space shuttles and superhero costumes from the movies. I bet there’s even some ships that you can see that are like the ones Killian and I used to work on.”

“Can we go on a real ship?”

“We can maybe go on one that’s in the museum,” Neal explains, pointing to the restaurant just ahead of them, “but we can talk about it after we eat, okay?”

 

* * *

 

The first three days of their vacation seem to breeze by as they hit as many sights for Henry as they possibly can. Between the three of them they’re able to tell him a lot of the history behind monuments, even if they have to make it as kid friendly as possible for some things. They eat enough junk food to last her for months, and if it wasn’t for all of this walking, she’s sure that she would have gained at least ten pounds. But it’s a vacation, she has to remind herself, even if she doesn’t feel relaxed. Everything she eats isn’t going to be one of Killian’s homecooked meals where things are a little healthier than normal. It’s not going to kill her to indulge in a giant ice cream sandwich that she couldn’t possibly finish eating before it melts.

Besides, it’s not like she’s the most healthy eater anyways. There’s simply usually more of a balance.

But it’s a vacation.

Plus, even Killian got himself a milkshake, and he somehow managed to get a little of it on his beard. He’s not a messy eater, at all, so she enjoyed that even if he got a little flustered by it.

The dork.

On Wednesday Neal gets them access to a tour of part of the Truman building so Henry can kind of see where he’s going to be working with the State Department. It’s interesting for her, but she can tell that Henry is bored out of his mind, so they quickly leave and make their way to the zoo. Of all the places for Henry to want to go while they’re here, she was not expecting the zoo, if only because they’ve been to enough zoos in his lifetime. But it’s what he wants, and he has a good time as they wander the paths to go to the different exhibits.

Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!

Mostly pandas, though. Okay, so just two pandas that Henry spends a lot of time looking at, and she just knows that they’re going to leave this place with an expensive stuffed animal from one of the gift shops. It’s fine. This is a vacation, and she wants Henry to be happy. Besides, this zoo is all about wildlife restoration and preservation, so hopefully he’ll learn a few things too. She thinks that’s what Killian is trying to teach him as he reads the little information guides next to all of the exhibits.

Ada starts crying in her stroller, and before it can get too loud, Emma squats down and unstraps her, picking her up and holding her to her chest as they sway back and forth. She needs to eat soon. They all do, which means they need to leave the panda exhibit at some point today.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” she soothes, rubbing her hand down Ada’s back. “You’re okay. We’re going to go inside soon and you can eat and take a nap. It’ll all be okay.”

“Do we need to go, love?” Killian asks her, walking away from the window and toward her.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Henry,” Neal starts, “let’s go get something to eat. We can look at the pandas again later.”

Henry grumbles a bit, but he listens, joining them as they look for somewhere that’s not too crowded to eat. Plus somewhere that has some shade. It’s not terribly hot here, but she’s worried about Henry getting too much sun even with all of the lotion that she’s applied.

“Neal,” someone calls, and they all stop walking to turn to see a man slowly jogging their way before he stops in front of Neal. “Neal Gold? Mate, it’s so nice to see you! What’s it been? Three years?”

“Um, I think you have the wrong guy, man,” Neal explains, flashing him a smile while Ada starts babbling to her.

“No, it’s Kyle Thomasson. We used to watch football matches at the Three Kings in London. You were in there nearly every Thursday night.”

“My last name is Cassidy,” Neal explains as he holds his hands up. “You’ve probably seen my face on TV and got a little confused. It happens to me all of the time. It’s nice to meet you, though.”

“Are you sure because I – ”

“Dada,” Ada gurgles, and she nearly drops her child, all of her focus now on the fact that she just said her first word.

“Killian,” Emma gasps, looking over to him as his gaze stays on Neal and his conversation, jaw clenching. “Killian,” she repeats, grabbing his arm until he looks at her.

“What, love?”

“Ada just said her first word.”

“Truly?” he chuckles, one hand falling on her back while the other lands on Ada’s arm. His eyes are so blue and happy, and he doesn’t even know that she said his name first.

“Ada, will you say it again? Will you say Dada again, bug?”

Ada doesn’t seem to care that they’re waiting for a repeat performance because she goes back to holding her hand to her mouth and biting down on her fingers while she tries to coax it out of her. She needs for the kid to say it again so Killian can hear, but she knows that it likely won’t happen. That’s how it was for Henry too.

“She really said my name?” Killian asks, his voice almost in a state of bewilderment as his fingers run up Ada’s arm.

“She said Dada, clear as day.” She presses up on her toes to kiss the corner of Killian’s lips. “She’ll say it again, I’m sure. And if not, you’ll annoy her enough with it until she does.”

“I will not.”

“You most definitely will.”

“Mom,” Henry groans, and her eyes dart to him as he’s practically laid out on a fence, “I thought we were going to eat.”

“We are, we are. Your sister just said her first word.”

“Was it that she’s hungry?”

“Talk about some sass, kid,” she laughs, handing Ada to Killian so that hopefully he can hear her speak before she moves up to walk next to Henry, letting him push the empty stroller as the man Neal was talking to walks away, obviously finally accepting that he was talking to the wrong person.

Most of their afternoon is spent at the zoo so that Henry can go through all of the exhibits again, and when they leave, he has a stuffed panda toy and at least three books about all of the different animals he saw today. Ada has a little stuffed giraffe too, but that’s mostly because Killian is an absolute sucker and had to get her something too. She suspects that it’s because their daughter’s first word was Killian’s name and not hers. That’s something she’s going to be hearing for awhile, but that’s okay. Henry said her name first, and even if she was his only parent for a long time, that still means the world to her.

And he eventually got around to having a dad…and then another one. He’s a lucky kid.

Even though her feet are starting to get tired from spending the day walking around, they hop on the metro and make their way to the Potomac Park so that they can show Henry a few more memorials. The cherry blossoms are in bloom, too, so she’s kind of excited to see those as she pushes Ada’s stroller in front of her while the kid naps.

She’s living the life being able to go on a sightseeing vacation but never having to walk. Maybe in the morning they’ll spend a little extra time in the hotel so that Ada can crawl around and stand propped up against the chairs to get her energy out. Maybe they’ll spend some extra time in the hotel so that they can sleep in a little bit and rest. She tries to work out pretty regularly, but man can vacation take a lot out of her when she feels like she hasn’t sat down in days. Henry’s dragging too, so maybe tomorrow will be a relaxed day.

“You see that spot up there?” Neal points out to Henry, guiding his gaze up to a small benched area next to the river, some of the early cherry blossoms having bloomed over the pathway.

“It’s just a seat.”

“You’d think that, but that’s the spot where I asked your mom to marry me.”

Her step falters for a moment, her feet nearly tripping over her sneakers, and if she didn’t have Ada’s stroller to hold her up, she might fall to the ground. And if the burning in Killian’s eyes is any indication, he’s noticed. Of course this is the spot. She knew that. How could she forget? That was one of the happiest moments of her life. But she didn’t think that they were coming here when Neal told Henry that he knew one of the best views in the city.

Her tiredness has obviously made her forget. It’s been a big, exhausting day. She probably still smells like the elephants.

“Really? Right there?”

“Right there. I got down on one knee and asked your mom to marry me, and she said yes before she hugged me.”

“You’re not married anymore, though,” Henry points out, his voice staying at such an equal volume. He doesn’t understand the complexity of what he’s talking about, doesn’t understand the emotions. She doesn’t even understand the emotions herself. “You could always ask her again.”

Neal and Killian both let out a loud cough, the words obviously shocking them both. They’ve shocked her too, but mostly, she’s relieved that she doesn’t have to be the one to answer the hard question for once. She’s been answering them for eight, almost nine, years, and she’s going to let Neal answer this one, especially when he kind of led himself into it.

She doesn’t think she can speak with the way Killian’s eyes are still burning into her skull either. He’s been doing that a lot this afternoon, but she’s mostly thought it was because he got to experience Ada’s first word (kind of) when he usually misses so much because of work. His look now is obviously to see if she’s okay.

She’s not entirely sure if she is.

“Henry,” Neal sighs, squatting down in the middle of the path despite the fact that they’ll block foot traffic, “I love your mom a lot, but she and I aren’t going to get married again, okay? She’s with Killian, with your daddy, and one day they might get married just like one day I might marry someone else. But that doesn’t mean that you’re not going to be our awesome kid and that we’re going to stop doing fun things like this.”

“Are you going to get married to someone who you meet here? In your new home?”

Neal shrugs, looking back at her and flashing her an amused grin. He’s doing a really good job at handling this. He probably shouldn’t have pointed out his proposal spot to Henry, but that was an easy mistake. He likely wanted Henry to know some of his history, some of their history. He should know that his parents were in love once, and this is a nice way for Neal to handle talking about it. He’s doing so well being a father and helping Henry understand that he’s not going to be around as much as he is now, and she’s so dang proud of him and proud of how he’s adjusting back to normal life. She’s proud of how he’s changed since they were together.

“I don’t know. I haven’t met her yet, but if I do, I promise that you can meet her too.”

“Do you think she’ll want to go eat pizza with us?”

“I know she will.”

“Awesome.”

Neal stands from the ground and wraps his arm around Henry’s shoulder, guiding them back into the crowd and along the pathway while Killian does the same to her, nudging her along so that she starts pushing the stroller again.

“Are you okay, darling?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she promises, sniffling the slightest bit. She’s mostly okay, but she also just watched Neal get to be a dad to their kid in a spot that is important to her, to them. That’s something she dreamed about for a long time, both when she felt alone when she was pregnant and when she actually was alone after Neal…died - disappeared. She’s always wanted Henry to have this relationship with his dad, and now he has it. It makes her heart ache but in a good way. “I knew coming back here would bring back a lot of memories, but I wasn’t expecting any of that conversation to happen.”

“Me either,” he whispers, his voice cracking the slightest bit.

It’s not something she’s proud of, especially with how much she trusts Killian, but she’s been worried about him. He’s been acting odd recently. He’s more reserved, his emotions bottled up, but whenever she’s about to say something about it, he lets her in, let’s her see what he’s thinking. They’ve been working so damn hard to fix them, to make them better. Their love has never been easy, even when it was, and she wants to fight for it. She knows Killian does too, but that doesn’t mean that she can’t worry. He’s bottled up things before about being a dad, about messing things up, and even when she feels like she knows everything about him, he surprises her.

That’s likely a good thing that they always have things to learn about each other.

And this conversation has started to drudge up the feelings she’s been hiding below the surface as well, her own little bottled up thoughts. Marriage has never been a “must have” for them. How they are has been good, and especially with how her first marriage went, she was hesitant at first. But she hasn’t been hesitant about it in years now. She’s known that it’s what she wants, has talked to Killian about it. She knows that he wants it too, that the ring is still resting in his uniform pocket. It hasn’t moved since she found in three months ago.

Has he changed his mind again? Does he not want to be with her anymore? Legally, at least. Is she too much? Are her relationships too much? Is she not enough?

Her demons are the ones telling her these things, the ones attacking her mind, and as open as she and Killian are trying to be with each other, she doesn’t want to blurt out “why the hell won’t you marry me?”

She’d definitely sound crazy, and a part of her doesn’t want to ruin his plans again like she must have done the first time. It’s Killian. He has to have a plan. He always does. He’s the most thoughtful man in the world, and he would think something like this through.

But why hasn’t he asked?

Why is she freaking out? Why is she thinking there’s some kind of wall between them when it’s just him and her, no walls, no secrets?

Why is she doing this now when they’ve had a really good day? When their daughter has had a monumental day and their son is having a great trip?

“I love you, you know,” Killian adds, pressing his lips into her temple as they walk under the cherry blossoms, the reflection of the Jefferson monument shining in the water.

“I do. I love you.”

“And I’m sorry for all of the negative thoughts that your mind is currently running through.” She almost protests, but he soldiers on. “Ah, don’t try to deny it, Swan. I know you. You’re doing a million and one ‘what if’ scenarios right now because of what just happened. Don’t do that.”

“I’m scared that we’re going to mess Henry up more than we already have.”

Killian doesn’t say anything for a long time, the two of them walking side by side in something between companionable silence and awkward silence, but then he speaks, his voice audibly broken even though she can tell that he’s trying to hide it.

“I won’t let that happen. The rest of my life is going to be spent protecting the three of you and giving you the best life possible. No matter what.”


	16. Chapter Sixteen

_Liam: Caleb is officially going to be our son, so if you’d like, you can tell Emma now!_ _It’s no longer a secret!_

_Killian: Bloody hell. That’s fantastic!_

_Killian: I’m more than thrilled for you two, and I’ll have to call you tomorrow._

_Liam: I can’t believe I’m going to be a dad._

_Killian: Welcome to the club. It’s the best one._

He’s got a smile on his face for the rest of the day after receiving Liam’s texts about he and Belle’s news about Caleb, and for how things have been lately, that’s something that he appreciates even more than usual. He’s been drowning himself in that all too familiar feeling of guilt, and it’s only when he’s occupied at work or with his family that he’s able for it to lessen, for the weight crushing his heart to lift to a bearable pain that allows him to breathe.

This, finding out that his brother and Belle get to fulfill a dream they’ve had for a good while, one that’s been breaking their hearts for years as they continuously fell short, helps to lift his spirits for a few minutes. Being a dad is his greatest joy in life. He understands that it’s not for everyone, that not everyone wants it, and he gets that. It’s difficult, emotional, disgusting sometimes, and causes more stress than many other things in his life. It’s all about personal preference and want, but when you want to be a parent, well, he doesn’t see how anyone could ever think that it’s not a wonderful blessing.

And that little boy, Caleb, is about to have more love and family than he knows what to do with.

He has to no idea how he’s going to get his family over to England this year to meet the lad, but it’s got to happen. Liam and Belle made the effort to be here for Ada’s birth and for so many milestones in Henry’s life that he can’t imagine not being around to meet this kid once he’s gotten a bit settled into life in a new home.

This is bloody magnificent.

It makes him happy when he hasn’t had a lot to feel happy about lately. Well, that’s not true. He falls asleep at night with the love of his life in his arms, and he wakes up in the morning and gets to take care and love these two children who are the lights of his life. Really, he has everything he ever wanted, everything he ever dreamed about when he realized that he didn’t want to live the life of the bachelor Navy Captain forever.

He has everything in the palm of his hands.

He can feel it all slipping through his fingers.

It’s been exactly forty-seven days since he took Henry to therapy and saw Neal get into a car before returning back to the office, and even though he told himself that it was nothing and that Neal deserves his own time, he has not listened to his thoughts. In fact, he has run marathons with them and paid more attention to Neal’s every movement than he has those of his girlfriend’s.

One day he’d love to propose to Emma so as not to be nearly thirty-eight and still calling her his girlfriend when they share their entire life with each other.

Among other reasons such as loving her and wanting to commit to her in every way possible. Those being the most important.

And yet he can’t propose to her. Not now. Not when he’s harboring this secret that she would hate him for, that she _will_  hate him for. He’d wanted to propose before Neal was found alive, and after he came home was not the time. He’d wanted to propose after they’d gotten back together in December, but it was too soon, their wounds still too fresh. He’s wanted to propose every day of this year, but he cannot ask Emma to marry him, to love him for the rest of their days, when he’s entirely sure that her ex-husband has been lying to all of them about what he’s been doing since he got home…and possibly before then.

He’s seen a lot of outlandish things in his life and in his time traveling to different countries, but thinking that Neal Cassidy is living some kind of secret life has got to be the most outlandish thought to ever cross his mind. It’s Neal, the man who he used to go out for drinks with, the man who he used to watch football matches with, the man who Emma once loved more than anyone in the world, the man who was living in his house until he officially moved to DC last week.

Neal Cassidy who is his friend.

Neal Cassidy who is his son’s father.

Of all of the things that make his thoughts horrible, he thinks the worst is that he could possibly accuse Henry’s dad of being someone other than who he says he is when Henry looks up to Neal.

It’s that thought that has made him walk miles back and forth while weighing everything in his mind.

But his thoughts of protecting Emma and Henry, Ada too, are the ones that have made him decide that if he can’t stop thinking about it, there must be something to it. And when Kyle Thomasson came up to Neal at the zoo and started talking about their time together in London, that’s when he knew for sure that something is not adding up, that something is not right. It could have been a mistake, yeah. Neal’s face has been plastered across the television and online, but Kyle seemed sure enough that it stuck with him.

Neal Gold.

Of course, Emma pulled him away from listening so that he could hear that his little girl had just said his name for her first word. He wanted to mark the moment as one of the best in his life, but he was distracted and confused, his mind focusing on everything else. But he wouldn’t let the craziness completely take away from the moment. He simply wouldn’t. Too much has already been taken from his family, and he wanted to treasure the fact that his little girl with her chubby cheeks and hazel eyes said his name. He wanted to be able to appreciate that the little girl who he was terrified of being a bad father to, is still terrified of being a bad father to, loves him enough to say his name before she says any other words. He knows that there are other factors, that it’s really her saying sounds, but he loves whenever she babbles his name to him.

He can’t keep having family moments taken away from him. He won’t keep letting it happen.

Which is why he’s spent his nights compiling every oddity about Neal to try to make sense of his thoughts and his stories. While Neal was still living with them, he took the time to notice more about him than anyone would expect him to. If he’s honest with himself, he’s gone too far with his investment, with his theories, and he’s ashamed of it all. He’s _deeply_  ashamed, but he doesn’t think he’s wrong to think that every duck isn’t in its row and that every domino isn’t perfectly placed. If he were to tip one over, he’s sure they’d all still fall, just not in the right way.

It’s all been a perfect merry go round of thoughts, the same words repeating over and over again in his mind so that he can’t make them stop, so that he can’t make them fall away.

_Ashes to ashes, we all fall down._

But now that he suspects something, now that Neal is out of the house and not sharing a breakfast table with him, it’s been easier to try to make his thoughts more coherent. It’s been easier to know that he’d lost his mind and started following the man to his therapy appointments and support groups. Sometimes Neal went into the buildings. Other times he didn’t, either getting into another random car and driving away or never showing up to the right addresses to begin with. When he got into the cars, Killian tried to follow him, but traffic and crafty driving had always made him lose his tail. He’s an idiot for not being able to get it done, but he’s also an idiot for thinking that he should be following Neal.

A step too far and a step too short all at once.

If Neal found out…it’d be all over. He would destroy everything that mattered to him over some dumb hunch that he’s convinced himself is real and reliable and important in keeping all of those things (those people – Emma, Henry, and Ada) together in the little bubble of happiness that they’ve finally found after so much heartbreak and heartache, shattered pieces still littering the floor.

He cannot shatter them again.

He’s going to.

He’s an idiot for lying to Emma about his slightly late days at the office every now and then. They’re not supposed to have any secrets, but he can’t tell her about this. Not yet. Maybe when he knows more, when he has more information. He needs to know something solid for sure before talking to Emma. She believes him about a lot of preposterous things, but this…this would be asking too much.

There’s just…something is not right. That much he knows for sure. Neal is hiding something, and he doesn’t know what. But it’s there. It has to be. There are so many things that don’t make sense, so many oddities and disconnections that simply don’t make sense. Every day of his life is spent connecting metaphorical dots and actualizing how they would play out in real life, and he can’t get his mind to stop doing that here.

He’s terrified, actual chills seeping into his bones and settling until there’s a hollow ache, that something, someone, is going to hurt his family. He’s terrified that it’s going to be someone other than him as he tries to figure out why Neal was lying to them about where he spends his time.

What if Neal hurts Emma? What if he hurts Henry? What if they’ve welcomed him back into their lives with open arms only for him to be lying to them?

There are several facts that Killian has always known. They’ve been a constant in the past decade of his life, and he never thought he’d change them. His world has been built around them, and they were set in stone.

He met Emma Swan on November tenth, two thousand and eight.

Emma Swan fell in love with Neal Cassidy, and they had a wonderful marriage that was full of life and light that the both of them were missing during their childhoods.

Emma Swan gave birth to Henry Cassidy on September fourth, two thousand and eleven, and she and Neal were the proudest parents on the planet.

Neal Cassidy deployed for Afghanistan on October third, two thousand and eleven.

Neal Cassidy was declared missing and presumably dead on December eleventh, two thousand and eleven.

Killian kissed Emma for the first time on April twenty third, two thousand and fifteen, and it was the most glorious moment of his life until she told him that she loved him for the first time on August seventh of that same year.

They moved in together in Alexandria, bought a house and moved to Portland, continued to date and raise their son with as much love as either of them could muster, and on May seventeenth, two thousand and nineteen Ada Grace Jones was born and he knew for a fact that his heart could never be so full of love.

His life was practically perfect in the way that lives can be perfect.

And then it wasn’t.

On September thirteenth, two thousand and nineteen, Neal Cassidy was found alive and rescued in Afghanistan where he was a prisoner of war for just shy of eight years.

Killian’s entire life was flipped, twisted, revived, and changed.

These are things he can’t dispute, that he can’t change. He’s always thought that. For a long time he lived in a world of facts, a place where only black and white existed, no murky gray filling the middle. His father left him, his mother died, and his brother moved back to England instead of staying in America with him. It was how it was, and that’s how he lived.

That’s no longer true.

Because what if everything he knows was a lie?

What if? What if? What if?

He thought Emma and Neal had a great marriage, and even though it had its bright moments, he now knows that it was darkly shaded in variations of gray, merging into black at some points, rarely merging back into the light.

He thought Neal was always a proud parent to Henry, that he was as excited for that baby to be born as Killian was for Ada to make her entrance, but that fact was all a lie too.

He thought that Neal was dead, but he wasn’t. He was a prisoner of war being tortured and beaten for information he likely didn’t have.

But what if he wasn’t? What if that fact isn’t true either?

That’s the crutch of the entire situation. That’s the crazy thought that keeps replaying over and over again. Something about Neal isn’t adding up, and if some of the things Killian has known for years aren’t true, who’s to say that others can’t be as well?

He’s ashamed of himself for thinking this way when his focus should be on making sure that Henry is okay now that his dad is living away from him. He’s ashamed that he’s thinking awful thoughts about a man who is his friend and is a part of his family, but he’s not going to be ashamed if he’s right about this all.

Because what if Neal wasn’t a prisoner of war all of that time? It’s quite possibly the most preposterous thing he’s ever thought, but crazy thoughts turn out to be true every day. What if Neal was deployed and simply…never came home? It doesn’t make sense, he knows, but when he thinks about the man who they ran into at the zoo, the man who was convinced that he knew Neal in London, it…does.

It makes sense because Killian remembers being in London with his family and thinking that he saw Neal at the park. It’s a large city, one that anyone could discreetly make their way through, but what if he really did see Neal that day? What if Kyle really did spend his evenings drinking ale and watching football with Neal at a pub?

But it doesn’t explain anything, not really. Why would Neal live in London instead of coming home? How would he dodge the military like that? How would he create a new identity? Why would he? What would he have been doing in London all of this time? Did he check up on Emma and Henry at all? And if he was in London, how did he become captured again? How was he in that cell for the SEALs to rescue him?

That’s the part he can’t add together no matter how hard he tries. He cannot think of any possible explanation for that. Not a one.

He also can’t think of how any of this relates to what’s going on now. He can’t figure out why Neal had lied, why he would skip out on therapy and dinner and go places he tells no one about. He can’t figure out why the man would come home and put such effort into building a life with Henry (and Emma) if he really did stay away from them for eight years voluntarily? What is Neal doing, and why is he doing it?

Nothing adds up.

Nothing at all.

There’s no way in hell he can figure any of this out on his own.

When he walks in his front door after work, he feels drained, all of the life practically sucked out of him despite having a good day at work and beaming over Liam and Belle’s news. Shedding his suit jacket, he hangs it on the hook by the door and takes the few steps into the kitchen where Henry is sitting at the table with notebooks spread out and his hand gripping onto his pencil as he does his homework. Ada is working on standing, her little legs holding her up as she holds onto a kitchen chair, cruising a bit. God, she’s growing up so fast with her first birthday next month, and he wonders how the hell it’s all gone by so quickly. He’s not ready for his baby to be one, but it’s not as if he can stop time.

Maybe he can try.

“Hey, Henry,” he greets, clapping his hand down on his shoulder and kissing the top of his head. “Did you have a good day at school? You excited about your field trip to the lighthouse tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but Mary Margaret says we have to do a project too, which is boring.”

“Oh come on, projects are fun! Your mum and I will help anyways, okay? Besides, you get to go to the top of the lighthouse and see everything. I feel like that makes the project worth it.”

“Maybe.” Henry shrugs before pressing up in his chair and cupping his hands around Killian’s ear. “Mom is making broccoli tonight, and it smells so bad.”

“But it tastes so good,” he chuckles, knowing that Henry isn’t going to change his mind on the vegetable.

“Dada,” Ada mumbles, reaching over to him as she guides herself along the table only to plop down, hard, against the wood floor before scrambling herself back up again.

“Hello, my little love,” he smiles, reaching down to pick her up and press a smacking kiss against her cheek that makes her giggle while he runs his fingers over her stomach and over the soft material of her dress. “Did you have a good day too? Solve any mathematical equations at nursery? Make a new best friend? Grow a few new inches?”

“Ada can’t do math, Daddy.”

“Oh, you’re right,” he laughs, flashing a smile at Henry. “She can’t do math quite yet, but who knows? Maybe your sister will be a little Einstein.”

“That’s a TV show.”

“It is indeed.”

Emma rounds the corner at that moment, yanking at her shorts to pull them up. She must have run to the restroom or something and trusted Ada and Henry not to break the house down in her two minute absence.

“Hey,” she says, switching her direction and walking toward him, pressing up on her toes and kissing his cheek, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I’m very good at sneaking around.”

“That is not as funny of a joke as you think it is.”

She’s being playful, but he realizes the truth in his choice of words. He shouldn’t have said that. Not at all.

“All of my jokes are funny.”

“No they’re not,” Henry very helpfully supplies.

“See,” Emma laughs, backing up from him and walking back toward the stove, “Henry agrees with me, so obviously the two of us are right.”

“Obviously,” he agrees, putting Ada back on the ground so that she can keep propping herself up before he walks to the kitchen island and sits down on a barstool. “So I’m told that we’re having broccoli tonight, and it is not popular among the peanut gallery.”

“It never is, but the cool thing about being the mom is that what I say goes.”

“Very, very true.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

“I hate you,” Henry screams at Emma, his face as red as a ripe tomato while tears stream down his face.

“That is not okay, Henry,” Emma says calmly, her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pressed into a straight line. He’s got no clue what to do here, no wise words of wisdom. No one ever really prepared him for what to do when his girlfriend’s four year old decides to yell at her because she said no to a box of cookies at the supermarket. “We do not say that.”

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”

“Henry.”

“You’re mean.”

“Henry, I understand that you want a cookie and think they’re yummy, but not right now.”

He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, seemingly mimicking Emma in his posture all while Killian is shocked into silence over what to do. Or what not do really. It isn’t his place to parent, and he feels stuck between that metaphorical rock and hard place as all of this unfolds.

“I hate you.”

“Well, I love you.”

Emma and Henry go back and forth for what has to be ten more minutes before Henry calms himself down and Emma takes him into his bedroom where he hears them quietly whisper to each other, a gentle hush after the absolute chaos of earlier. He feels awkward and out of place. Henry is honestly the first kid he’s ever been around for such a large amount of time, and he’s usually only here for the good moments. He’s Henry’s mum’s fun boyfriend who takes him to the park and buys him ice cream because them going out together is supposed to be a treat for the lad. But ever since he and Emma started dating, he’s seen so much more, seen the darker, harsher sides of parenting that he rarely saw before, and he’s still in an odd limbo of not knowing what his place is.

He and Emma love each other, and he loves Henry. It’s just…odd.

Grabbing a glass of water, he takes a few steps into the living room a sits down in the large lounge chair, rubbing his thumb over the rim of the cup. This is not what he was expecting when he came over for dinner tonight, and he’s nervous for how Emma is going to be feeling when she comes out of Henry’s bedroom.

_Liam: It’s now two in the morning, and I’ve been watching a show about baking for five hours._

_Liam: I’m not sure if I’ve ever baked a day in my life._

_Killian: Great British Bake Off?_

_Liam: Yep._

_Killian: If you have a cup of tea next to you, you’re fulfilling all kinds of stereotypes._

_Liam: I did just tell my wife that we had a jolly good shag, so I feel like this is true._

_Killian: That’s more than I ever needed to know._

_Belle: Your brother did not say that, and I agree. That’s more than you ever needed to know._

_Killian: Amen, love._

He’s typing another message when he hears a door shut behind him and sees Emma emerge from Henry’s room, her hair now pulled up into a bun on top of her head, the loose blonde strands falling on her forehead and down her neck. He opens his mouth to say something, to ask if she got Henry down for bed, but he doesn’t get the chance before Emma is unceremoniously plopping down into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck while her face burrows into his shoulder. He can feel her shoulders shake, her entire body quivering, and he can do nothing but rub his hand up and down her back while he rests his chin on the top of her head.

“Shh, shh,” he whispers, words failing him for how to comfort her when she’s showing him such a vulnerable side that he only gets to see when Emma can’t hold back her emotions anymore. She’s the strongest person he’s ever known, and her being vulnerable with him is another example of that. “You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re okay.”

“He said that he hates me,” she mumbles against his neck, her lips touching his skin while her hair tickles just under his nose. “He hates me, and I don’t know what to do about that.”

“He doesn’t hate you. He’s simply upset.”

“B-b-but why did he say it? He’s never done that before. I love him so much, and he hates me.”

“I don’t know,” he soothes, wracking his brain for the right thing to say, “but I know that he doesn’t mean it, Swan. He could never. That boy loves you more than anything.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Then we won’t. What do you want to do instead?”

Her arms tighten around his neck, and she twists her head to rest it on his shoulder, her cheek pressing against his t-shirt. “We can watch TV so that I can forget about the fact that I’m a terrible mother.”

“Emma – ”

“Please don’t.”

“But – ”

“Killian, I don’t want to talk about it.”

He nods his head and moves his hand to find the remote, turning it on and flipping through the channels until he decides on a rerun of Oceans Eleven, figuring that it’s entertaining enough to keep them occupied and won’t at all remind Emma of why she’s upset. Henry’s four. He’s not some criminal mastermind planning a heist of a casino. This should be fine.

And it is. They sit in silence for a long time, Emma continuously adjusting herself in his lap while his hand slowly moves back and forth over her back and her waist. He thinks that she’s asleep, that the little puffs of air that are being breathed out on his neck are a good sign of that, but then she starts speaking.

“I know he doesn’t hate me. He loves me. I mean, I’m his mom, and I’m trying so hard to be a good one. But it still stings, you know? That kid wreaked havoc on my body for months, but I loved him. I do love him. More than anything in the world. And all I want is to not screw him up. I didn’t have a mom for most of my life, and I don’t have Neal here to help me and to help me make these decisions. I have…well, I have you, and I’m so thankful for you. You have to know that. I just – ”

“You had a rough night,” he finishes for her, leaning his head back against the cushions so that he can look in her eyes, the green especially bright under the tears that are covering her irises. “It’s okay. And I’ll say it as many times as I need to, but you don’t have to do anything alone, not when I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it,” he promises, pressing forward to kiss her eyebrow. “I love you, Emma.”

“I love you too. You’re a good man.”

“Oh I don’t know about that. I’m probably the reason Henry wants a cookie so badly. He does get sweets when we go out.”

“He wants them because he’s four. That’s how it works.”

“Had he calmed down before he went to sleep?”

“Yeah,” Emma sighs, her fingers tracing patterns at the tape of his neck, moving between his skin and his hair. “He did. He was so angry, you know? But we went through our routine and then he told me he loved me right before he drifted off to sleep. So I felt better even if I still feel like absolute shit.”

“Tomorrow will be better. Would it be totally hypocritical if we indulged in some sweets to make you feel better?”

“It would, but I’m the mom. What I say goes.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

 The rest of their evening is spent feeding both Ada and Henry, the two surprisingly similar in their resistance to eating vegetables despite the age gap, but they manage to get it done, as they always do, even if there’s a little kicking and screaming along the way. He helps Henry with his homework before Neal calls, something he’s done every day since he moved. It’s usually the highlight of Henry’s evening, and all things considered, the lad is handling it well. Killian can tell that he misses Neal, that he misses having him around to spend time with, but he’s doing okay.

Henry loves Neal just as Neal loves Henry, and it’s what makes all of Killian’s thoughts about Neal so much more heartbreaking.

He has to be wrong. He has to be.

He knows that he’s not.

Eventually the get the kids to bed, Ada refusing to fall asleep more than usual, but once both of their bedroom doors are closed, he and Emma walk down the hall to their room and fall onto the mattress, their limbs spreading out in exhaustion while the ceiling fan turns above them.

“Liam and Belle are adopting a two-year-old boy named Caleb.”

“I’m sorry. What?” Emma gasps, quickly turning on the bed until she’s sitting up, her hair falling down and creating a curtain over his face. “Did you just say they’re adopting?”

“I did.”

She slaps his chest, her hit far more powerful than she probably realizes. It always is. “How long have you known about this? When did it start? They’re really getting to be parents? Is the paperwork official? Oh God I hope the paperwork is official because if it’s not – ”

“The paperwork is official,” he promises, reaching his hand up to cup her cheek, soft skin against his rough palm while he tries to stop the spiral she’s going down. “I’ve known since Christmas, but Liam asked me not to say anything because he didn’t want to jinx it, I guess. Or maybe he didn’t want everyone to get their hopes up and get Belle’s hopes up when it wasn’t a for sure thing.”

Emma’s lips press together as she nods her head in agreement before a smile breaks out on her face, one that actually takes his breath away. The could also be her elbow on his rib, but it’s probably both.

“I get that. I mean, I didn’t try for Henry, but we tried for Ada and you know how difficult that was even though we only had to wait a little under a year. I can’t – I can’t imagine going through what they’ve been through.”

He taps his thumb against her bottom lip, agreeing with every word that she just said. He’s had a lot of heartache in his lifetime, but he can’t imagine going through that.

“Me either, love.”

Emma sighs before falling back over on the bed, the mattress squeaking a bit as one of the throw pillows topples onto the ground. “I can’t believe you managed to keep that a secret from me for so long. I’m impressed, Jones.”

His heart lurches at that, guilt beginning to thrum through his veins so that his blood somehow both boils and goes cold. She has no idea what he’s going through, and he doesn’t want her to know.

God, he’s such an asshole.

He may very well be the worst man on the planet. How many times does he have to think that before it comes true?

“Your superpower is obviously a little off kilter,” he teases, twisting his head to the side to smile at her, forcing the joy onto his face.

“Never,” she laughs, and his heart breaks a little more. “I’m so freaking happy for them. I can’t believe I’m going to be an aunt again. Can I call Belle in the morning?”

“You could call her right now, but I’m not sure she’ll answer.”

“True.”

“How was therapy today?” he asks, changing the subject as he gets up from bed and begins undoing his jeans, shimmying out of them and folding them.

“Weird,” Emma admits, sitting up and propping herself on her elbows. “I mean, I like Dr. Lawrence, but I’m just not used to talking to anyone but you about all of the craziness that’s going on up in my head.”

“Considering I have an equal amount of crazy going on in mine, it’s likely a good thing you’re still talking to someone else. You and Henry have been through a lot.”

“So have you.”

He clicks his tongue, disagreement on his lips even though he knows she’s right. But because he’s the biggest asshole in the world and can’t talk about any of the thoughts he’s having right now, he unbuttons his shirt, letting it hang off of his shoulders, and stalks over to Emma, leaning over her and caging her in.

“Aye, but I’m far more interested in you and I not talking than anything else right now.”

“Really now?” she purrs, looping her arms around his neck and arching her back up so that she can ghost her lips over his.

“Aye.”

“Well then, Captain, I’d say you’re going to struggle then because you talk far too much during sex.”

“I’ve never heard any complaints from you.”

“That’s because I can’t get a word in edgewise.”

He chuckles at that, something deep and low, and for the next few minutes as their lips and bodies move with and against each other, he forgets every awful, dark thought he’s been having for the past few weeks.

 

* * *

 

“You like your burgers well done, right?” Mary Margaret asks him as she sets the meat out on a tray the next day at their lunch with the Nolans.

“Yes, that’s fine.”

“Okay good. That’s how the kids like it too. That’s also how Emma cooks them because grilling isn’t really her thing.”

“She’s a woman of many talents, but that is not one of them.”

“I’m literally standing right here,” Emma groans, taking a sip of her lemonade as she messes with her sweater, fingering at the frayed edges that hang over the waistband of her jeans. “And I can so grill. It’s not that hard.”

“Sure, love.”

Emma cuts her eyes at him, the right side of her lips moving up despite his teasing insult. She’s been in such a good mood today, practically skipping as she walks, and he loves to see her happy like that.

“If you keep talking like that, you’re not going to get to eat.”

“Oh no. However will I live if my girlfriend doesn’t feed me? You know I can’t do anything without being waited on by you. I’m a helpless man.”

“That is not even funny.”

He winks. “I know.”

“You two are just so cute,” Mary Margaret sighs. He’d honestly forgotten she was in the room. He doesn’t know how, but he did. “I can’t get over it. It’s like watching my little sister fall in love.”

“We’ve been together for four years. I think we’re pretty solidly there. You act like I’m a teenager.”

“Teenage Emma would have slapped me for saying something like that.” Mary Margaret smiles affectionately at Emma, and he can see the affection in Emma’s eyes, even if she sometimes gets annoyed with how Mary Margaret talks to her. “Now let’s go grill some burgers because I’m starving, and I think the boys may throw a riot if they don’t eat soon.”

“Henry and Leo or David and Killian?”

“David and Killian, obviously.”

He shakes his head at the two of them as Mary Margaret picks up the tray of meat and walks outside, Emma quickly following behind her. He’d offered to cook today, but Mary Margaret insisted that she would do it since it wouldn’t take so long. It’s nice coming over to their house to spend some time with them, even if David isn’t home from work yet, having to work a shift on Saturday for one of his cases. He should be home soon, though, and it’s part of what keeps Killian inside the Nolans’ kitchen instead of going outside with everyone else. The other is that Ada is currently napping in her car seat, and since they don’t have a baby monitor here, he didn’t want to leave her inside by herself. They’ve done it plenty of times before, always coming to check on her every few minutes, but he didn’t want to leave his girl right now.

Grabbing a beer bottle out of the fridge, he twists open the top and settles down at the kitchen island, scooting up in the barstool and thumbing at his phone, replying to texts Liam and Belle have sent him today. Emma called Belle first thing this morning and ever since then his brother has been sending pictures they have of Caleb. He’s the cutest thing with the freckles spread across his face and the red hair gracing his head. He looks happy too, and that’s all that really matters to any of them. He’s got some good people who want to be his parents.

He also responds to a few texts from Neal. They haven’t shipped all of his clothes yet, so Killian has to remember to box all of those up and send them on Monday or Tuesday. Henry also wants to send him some more drawings, so he probably needs to get a protective notebook to do that in.

Ada coos in her seat, and he glances over only to see that she’s still asleep, twisting a bit. He smiles before going back to his phone, typing in a few reminders for tonight as he hears the click of the front door, heavy footsteps following it as David comes out of the entryway and into view.

“Just make yourself at home, why don’t you?”

“Always,” he laughs, stretching his arms over his head to ease some of the aches that he’s feeling. “Everyone is out in the backyard. I’m watching Ada while she sleeps.”

“She’ll be fine on her own.”

“I know.” He takes a sip of his drink while David takes off his coat and his badge, placing them on the counter top. “I don’t mind spending some time by myself either.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah? Why would you even ask?”

David points at him, circling his finger around him, and Killian gulps, the façade that he’s been putting on for weeks now crumbling much faster than he thought it would. If he could tell anyone his thoughts, it’d be David. He could always tell Liam, but Liam wouldn’t – Liam wouldn’t know enough to help him. David would. David knows Neal, has known him for nearly as long as he and Emma have, and David might…would David believe him? Would David help him? Could he? He’s a detective. He has resources, far more than Killian does.

Of course, David might also think he’s batshit crazy and tell Emma, making him lose everything he has.

Everything.

“You look like you’ve eaten some rotten sushi.”

“What a pleasant thing to say.”

David shrugs. “It’s the truth, so I ask again, you okay? Are you and Emma okay? God, please tell me that you and Emma are okay.”

He nods his head up and down before leaning forward and rubbing his fingers between his brows, trying to even out the lines, those of age and stress. This is all too much for him. This would be too much for anyone, and he’s not sure that he can carry the weight alone anymore.

Add another notch to his asshole ranking for laying it all down on David as well.

“We’re fine. Well,” he huffs, a dark chuckle escaping his lips as he sits up, straightening his back and not bothering to take a breath, “except for the fact that I think my girlfriend’s ex-husband is some kind of bloody liar who wasn’t really captured for all of that time he was gone.”

The words escape his lips before he can stop them, tumbling out as quickly and as smoothly as the beer runs down his throat. He needs something stronger. He needs rum. Hell, he doesn’t even like beer that much, but it’s something for when he doesn’t want or need to get a little intoxicated.

He kind of wishes he was drunk right now. It would numb the pain he’s feeling and give him a plausible excuse as to the absolute bullshit he just spewed to David.

Honestly, though, he can’t focus on the erratic beating of his heart or the way his lips suddenly feel dry when all he can focus on is David’s lips continuously parting and pressing together, his eyes widened into round saucers, and all of the color on his face palling to a white that matches the white of his knuckles as he grasps them into fists. The man must think he’s insane. He is insane. He is.

But he’s not.

“What the fuck?” David sputters, stumbling back a bit before he straightens himself out, shoulders hunching forward before they push back into their usual broad state.

“Exactly.”

“No, seriously,” David starts again, some of the color coming back into his face as he runs his hand through his hair, making it come out of its styled place, “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Neal. I’m talking about Neal. Something is wrong there, and I can’t live thinking this by myself anymore and you’re the poor sap who gets to listen to it all.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either.”

“Why are you telling me? Why not Emma? I mean, she could talk you down.”

He laughs again, but it gets stopped, the sound turning into a quiet whisper. “Dave I can’t – I can’t…” He has to stop talking, a sob getting caught in his throat while he massages his face with his fingers in a desperate attempt to calm himself down, all of the emotions beginning to fall loose from the tight hold that he’s had on them now that he’s spoken the words aloud. “I can’t let her get hurt again. She doesn’t deserve it. Emma has been through more than anyone. She was abandoned at birth, had a bad marriage where her husband disappeared and she was left to raise a kid alone, and then that husband came back from the dead. And yet she has trusted me with her heart. I can’t break it. I can’t do that to her.”

“Killian, I think you’re being paranoid. I think maybe you’re jealous of Neal and – ”

“I’m not bloody jealous of Neal,” he barks, slamming his hand down on the kitchen counter, only quieting when he remembers his daughter sleeping a few feet away from him. “I’m fucking pissed at him because something is happening. Something doesn’t match up. Something isn’t right, and I am terrified that whatever is going on is going to hurt Emma and Henry.”

He can feel the tears streaming down his cheek, a hot sting pressing behind his eyes. This can’t be happening. It can’t. He’s going crazy. He’s imagining things. He has to be.

Why can’t he make up his mind?

“Hey, Hey,” David soothes, his voice a quiet whisper, while he leans over the counter and places his hand on Killian’s shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I don’t want Emma to get hurt either. I love her too.”

“She’s my life,” he croaks, finally looking up at David again. “I have watched her go through so much pain, even the pain I have caused, and I can’t do it again. Not like this. So I need you to help me, okay? I don’t know how. I don’t know what I want you to look into, but something is wrong with Neal. I don’t know, mate. I don’t – for some reason I think he wasn’t captured for all of this time, that he was somehow free. It doesn’t make any sense, but I – ”

“I believe you, okay?” David promises, looking around his kitchen to make sure no one has come inside from the backyard. “You’re right. Something about Neal is off. I haven’t had the opportunity to notice like you, but there are definitely more oddities than before. I just…Killian, he works for the federal government. They’ve screened him. If he was up to something, they’d know.”

“But what if they’re not screening the right person? To them he’s Neal Cassidy, a war hero who’s been gone for eight years. There’s nothing to screen. But what if he’s…what if he’s been going by a different identity. When we were in DC a few weeks ago, this guy came up to him and called him Neal Gold. Neal insisted that the man just knew him from TV, you know? And had gotten the name messed up. But he kept saying that they used to go to The Three Kings in London together. And, yeah, it could have been a mistake, but Dave, I swear that I saw someone who looked just like Neal when Emma and I were in London two years ago. I didn’t think anything of it but…what if that was actually him?”

David doesn’t say anything. He stares in him in silence, his fingers tapping against the counter the only sound besides the pounding of his heart in his chest.

“Fuck. What if you’re right?”

“I know,” he sighs, the weight that’s been pushing him down lifting off of him a little bit. Not much. He’s still hiding things from Emma when he promised he’d never do that. He’s still holding the cards to rip both Emma and Henry apart. He’s holding the cards to have his family ripped from him again, and this time it won’t be for two weeks. It could be forever. “What if I am? I don’t want to be, but what if Neal has been living some kind of secret life? And if he has...why the hell has he come back?”

“Listen, this is crazy. Flat out insane, and this stays between you and me because this is not something that I’m supposed to do, but if you can give me all of the information you have, I’ll do what I can to look into it. You don’t need to be messing with any of this shit.”

“Okay, I can – thank you because I – ”

The kitchen door slams closed, and all of the words on his lips die as Emma comes into the room, her hair falling down over her shoulders and this effervescent smile painted on her lips. She looks beautiful. Happy. And he doesn’t deserve her.

He has never deserved her a day in his life.

“Woah, why so serious guys?” she laughs, her hands ghosting over his back as she grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge, placing it on the counter. When neither of them say anything, she speaks again, “Babe? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he lies, plastering a smile on his face as he turns to look at her, allowing her to place her hands on her chest. She doesn’t believe him, her brows pinched together in distrust.

“What are you hiding from me?”

“Nothing, love,” he says again, wishing he could have thought of other words.

“Killian, I know when you’re lying. Superpower or whatever. I swear it still works.”

“Aye, I just…I think I just desperately need to kiss you right now.”

He leans down to kiss her, to press his lips against hers and feel them be connected, but Emma sways back, her head moving around while she laughs.

“No, seriously. Talk to me. Ignore the fact that my brother is awkwardly standing right next to us.”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” David says, sympathetically shrugging before he walks away and leaves Killian to fight this battle all on his own when he finally felt like he had someone on his side.

Emma looks back to him, her eyes large and pleading, the green as bright as ever, and she slides her hands from his chest until they’re wrapped around his neck as she sways further into him.

“Sometimes I’m overwhelmed is all,” he answers honestly, knowing that he can’t lie to her even if he’s leaving out the truth. “I know feelings are easier for me than for you, but sometimes they’re still hard, you know? I thought I was going to lose you, to lose everything I had, and that does something to a man, even months afterward.”  
  
“You’re never going to lose me,” she promises, her gaze never leaving his. “That’s not something you have to worry about.”

“Aye, I know. It still affects me, you know?”

“I know.” Emma presses up on her toes and gently slides her lips over his, the soft warmth that always radiates from Emma consuming him and grounding him, making every single one of his worries fade away if only for the thirty seconds that Emma is gently sucking on his bottom lip. “I love you, Killian Jones. You’re a good man and a good dad. Nothing is ever going to change that.”

“I love you too, and I hope so.”

She tilts her head to the side, that same happy little smile on her face that he loves. “Why don’t you come outside and come play with the kids on the swing set? Your son says you’re the best at getting him really high off the ground, and your daughter just kind of babbles words. But those words are our names, so it’s super cute. We can easily wake her up and be selfish even if we’ll have to pay for it later.”

“I’ll be right out, love.”

Her eyes squint the slightest bit, her gaze entirely focused on him as she studies him. He hopes that he’s not giving anything away, that he’s not letting her know, but he already knows that he has failed.

Emma’s hand moves up to caress his cheek, the softness brushing against the hair on his cheeks, and he closes his eyes and leans into her touch, letting her support him for a moment. “You sure you’re okay? Because you know I’m always here to talk when you’re ready. It’s just us. No walls, no secrets. Just us.”

“I promise I’ll tell you everything later. I’m not…I’m not trying to hide anything from you. It’s simply not the right time yet.”

She gets a little smile on her face then, her eyes lighting up even more than they were, and he realizes that he’s really gone and done it now. Because what else could Emma possibly think he’s hiding from her and only sharing with her brother? She’s waiting on him to propose. She wants him to propose, and that ring is still sitting in his uniform pocket, likely collecting dust.

He’s a bastard who does not deserve this woman’s heart.

“I can wait,” Emma practically sighs, that same smile growing bigger so that the lines around her eyes crease, “but I think you and I both know that there’s no such thing as the right time. And besides, you know me. You know what I’ll say to whatever little plots you’ve got going on in that big brain of yours.”

If only she knew.

“Aye,” he chuckles, twisting his head and kissing her palm, lingering for as long as he can while he simply breathes her in. “Go play with the kids, Swan. I’m going to run to the toilet and bring Ada outside with me. You know I have the bladder of a small child.”

“You do have to pee a lot on road trips.”

“Exactly.”

Emma walks away with a laugh on her face, the sound trailing behind her like music to his ears, but it only calms him for a moment before he’s running to David and Mary Margaret’s guest bathroom and slamming the door behind him, fumbling with the lock so that no one comes in. He can barely breathe, his stomach rolling, and before he can even try to stop it he’s vomiting into the toilet, his eyes filling with tears and his entire body shaking. This is all too much for him, and he just brought David into it too.

He’s likely ruining his entire life.

What is he going to do if everything that matters to him, if everything he has, is taken from him?

What is he going to do if he’s the one to rip everything away from Emma?

He can’t break her heart. She doesn’t deserve it. He’ll live a miserable life thousands of times. He’ll go to the end of the world for her. But he can’t let her get hurt again.

And yet he’s already set the wheels in motion and pushed the damn start button himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in case you haven't picked up on it, this story is very twisty and curvy and does have some interesting twists, has since the beginning, and some of those are going to be revealed over the next few chapters. All of the pieces of the puzzle won't really be put together until the end, you probably won't like everything the characters do (that's life, you know? and it'll make sense later - you've just got to trust me), and we're ramping up toward the end. I'm still writing it, but if I had to guess, we're looking at twenty two or so chapters. 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for coming along on this ride with me! I never expected this story to be like this💕


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy ending, happy ending, happy ending. 
> 
> Just chant those words or whatever 💜

“How does that make you feel?”

She cuts her head to look at Dr. Lawrence and the way she’s tapping her pencil against her notebook, the one where she most likely writes down “Emma Swan is crazy” over and over again. It’s what she would write down if she were her own therapist because damn, sometimes she is crazy.

“Isn’t that a little cliché to ask me how that makes me feel?”

She sighs, her shoulders heaving the slightest bit, and she rolls her eyes. She likes Dr. Lawrence. She really does, but sometimes all she wants to do is take that notebook and rip it into pieces. She’s been coming here for two months now, since late February, and April isn’t bringing her any new revelations. Not that she thought therapy would. She just wanted to talk to someone else who wasn’t so emotionally invested in her life, to talk to someone who won’t get hurt by the things she has to say. They’re not all great, and she’s only a little ashamed by that. That’s what she’s supposed to be working on though.

“It is, yes, but I think it’s a legitimate question to ask when you’ve been circling around saying that it bothers you that Killian hasn’t proposed yet.”

Her lips press together in a firm line, a sour feeling settling in her stomach and making it twist into something that has to be unnatural. Feeling this way has to be unnatural. “I did not say that.”

“Not in those words, but you did.”

She sighs again, unable not to, before falling back on the couch and rubbing at her eyes, most likely making her mascara run and create some kind of weird, smoky eye raccoon look. This is a really uncomfortable couch, the cushions almost like rocks. Shouldn’t the thing be more comfortable? Aren’t people supposed to feel comfortable in here? That’s a thing, right?

“I’m not,” she starts, not really sure where the words are going as she uncovers her eyes and looks up at the paneled ceiling. They should do that in the living room. It’d look nice. “I’m not upset that Killian hasn’t proposed. Us getting married has never been a top priority for us, you know? We love each other, and a piece of paper and a diamond ring isn’t going to make us love each other more.”

“But it is more of a commitment.”

“Technically, yeah. With the whole legal aspect and all. I don’t – I don’t know. I _want_   to marry Killian. I really, really do. And I know he wants to marry me. He’s had a fucking ring for at least five months now, had to have had it for a few months before that, and he’s never asked me.”

“You’ve had a lot going on.”

She chuckles darkly, her stomach untwisting and sending that unpleasant feeling to her throat so that she feels like she could vomit all over the hardwood floor in here. That would probably be an extra fee that insurance doesn’t cover. “What? You mean like my dead ex-husband coming back from the dead, having to explain to him ‘hey honey, I moved on from you and am in love with your friend and can’t make you happy like that anymore. By the way, I realized most of our marriage was shit, but I can’t harbor any resentment toward you because you’re a hero and the father of our kid and have been through more bad things than I thought possible. Plus, you know, I did love you at one point and you’re a nicer guy now.’”

She finishes her words on a long breath, her shoulders releasing some of their tension, before she twists her head to the side and looks at Dr. Lawrence furiously scribbling notes down. Great, she’s probably going to get put into a mental institution now. Can her therapist do that?

Probably not.

God, she has got to get a grip.

And stop on the way home and get something for dinner so her mom isn’t forced to feed her when she picks Henry and Ada up from her house. Killian’s working late on some project with Robin that she cannot wait to be over. She swears that it’s aging him by ten years some days. He’s always so tired and stressed. Sometimes she wonders if he needs a new job, one that’s less stressful and reminds him less of his time in the Navy, but whenever she brings it up, he always says that he’s happy there and that the money is good. She believes him, but it doesn’t keep her from worrying about him and wanting to work on the stress that’s in his shoulders and between his brows.

Dr. Lawrence still doesn’t say anything, and for some reason this bothers her enough to make her keep going, to keep rambling.

“And I guess…things have calmed down now. It was like I was walking a tightrope for a long time, and I wasn’t allowed to trip or fall, you know? Because if I did, things fell apart. I had to be strong for Henry and for Ada. I had to be strong for Neal too. And Killian, even when we were going through that…even when we were going through that rough patch. But I failed, you know? I felt so lost and helpless. Sometimes I felt worthless, which is not an uncommon feeling for me but recently, it wasn’t a usual one. It took me a long time to get over Neal’s death, to get over being abandoned again, and Killian just made me feel so – he made me feel solid. Happy. Good. He was there for me when I felt like I had no one. He listened to me cry over my husband’s death. He listened to me cry over raising a baby alone. He listened to me. And he let me be me, which was something I didn’t have a lot.”

She smiles to herself thinking of it all, of all of the times Killian has been there with her and for her throughout the years, all the way back to them meeting in Oceania and him making her laugh. He’s always making her laugh.

“He’s my best friend on this planet. I can be myself when I’m with him, and he has held my hand through the shitstorm that have been parts of my life, even when I didn’t want to let him. I love him, you know? And I’m badass, by the way. Just thought that needed to be said. I’m badass and totally could have made it on my own, but Killian…with him I get to be strong and independent while also having that hand holding mine for comfort and support. He’s made my life so much better. He’s given me Ada, and really, he’s given me Henry too. So, yeah, I guess I am bothered by the fact that he hasn’t proposed yet. I’m worried that maybe he’s changed his mind again. I shouldn’t really. I know he loves me. He doesn’t let me doubt that. I just…I want to be with him fully. Hell, I want me to not have a different last name than both of my children. I want to marry him, and yeah, a part of me is worried that he doesn’t want to marry me, that everything with Neal has made our entire relationship be altered.”

Once the words are out, she knows that she can’t take them back. She doesn’t want to take them back. This is…this is her life and her emotions and she needs to feel them. It feels really good to say all of that, and honestly, she wants to say more. She wants to talk more about Killian and more about Neal. She wants to go back to what they were talking about last week and how Neal’s moving has affected everyone, especially Henry. She wants to talk about how terrified she is being a parent and putting her kids in such stressful, life changing situations.

She wants to talk.

But the clock on the wall says she only has ten minutes left, and she figures that Dr. Lawrence has to have something to say or else she’s been writing on that notepad for nothing.

She reaches up to wipe her eyes, to wipe away the tears that have been furiously falling without her permission before her hand lands on her pendant. She’s going to have to make herself look less puffy. She doesn’t even remember when she started crying.

“I think Neal coming back has altered your relationship,” Dr. Lawrence begins, and Emma sits up on the couch, straightening out her shirt and her back as she sniffles. “How could it not? Besides the emotional trauma and joy of having him be found alive, it’s completely changed your life. You and Killian are no longer parents to Henry alone. You share that responsibility even if the two of you carry the load. Your ex-husband is no longer a dead man. He’s a real human being with thoughts and feelings that aren’t always going to be perfect, so you have to adjust to that too. For as much change as you’ve been going through, Killian has been going through something too. You have to give him the emotional time to adjust as well because while I don’t know the man, I do know that he cares about you and is probably putting your feelings above his.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe Killian thinks that you’re not ready yet, that he thought you were still going through too much emotional upheaval until you two talked about it a bit – ” she looks down at her notebook, eyes seemingly searching for something “ – two weeks ago.”

Ah, so maybe she does actually pay attention.

“Does that really count as talking, though? I literally just hinted around at it.”

She smiles. “But it’s a start.”

 

* * *

 

“Henry, you have got to put your shin guards on so that we can go.”

“I can’t find them,” he shouts back over the railing.

“Of course you can’t,” she mutters to herself, rolling her eyes a bit as she looks down at Ada who is currently banging her hands against the wall and giggling to herself. Kids are so damn weird sometimes. She doesn’t understand what the purpose of banging her hands against the wall is, but if she’s about to have to go upstairs and help Henry find the rest of his soccer uniform, she can’t leave her down here by herself despite how much baby proofing they’ve done.

Her entire house is metaphorically wrapped in bubble wrap, and Ada still manages to find ways to nearly kill herself just by exploring.

This is terrifying.

How is Killian not back from his run and the grocery store yet? He’s already supposed to be here so they can go to the fields together like they’ve done every Saturday this spring. He already missed their usual breakfast, so he really needs to show up soon. Maybe he’s stuck in traffic or there was some kind of freak watermelon accident and there are watermelon all over the road. Or maybe he ran into someone he knows. She doesn’t know, and even though she really shouldn’t be angry at him right now, she’s had a bad morning and needs him.

And she misses him. He’s here, always right here, but he’s felt so distant lately, so far away. She felt so good after her therapy appointment on Tuesday, like she was ready to talk to him and finally fix things and have all of her emotions centered, but she’s barely gotten a chance to talk to him in the three days since. Both of their jobs have been busy, the kids have been insane, and then she had to deal with Neal cancelling his trip into town this weekend. She understands, really, but Henry understanding is different. He misses his dad, and if the hour long phone call last night is any indication, Neal misses Henry too.

Her life is a constant ebb and flow of being all together and all falling apart.

No, her life is good. She’s just been stressed the past few days. That’s all.

“Come on, bug,” she sighs, stepping toward Ada and picking her up, wondering when in the world this kid got so heavy. Ada lets out what has to be an actual, blood curdling scream and starts thrashing around while Emma carries her up the stairs. “Ada, shhh, it’s okay. We’re just going upstairs. You don’t have to have a meltdown.”

That somehow only makes things worse, the cries going up another decibel, and she resigns herself to this as she walks down the hallway into Henry’s room. There are clothes scattered everywhere, his notebooks spread across the floor. When in the world did his room get to be such a mess? He has to clean that tonight or tomorrow. It cannot stay like this.

“I can’t find them,” he whines again, tossing a pair of shoes out of his closet, the pair of converses landing on one of his books.

“Have you checked in your bag?”

“That’s the first place I looked.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he shouts, coming out past the doorway and running his hands through his hair, yanking at the brown strands. “Why is Ada so loud? Make her stop.”

“I’m trying, kid.”

“Try harder.”

“Hey, no,” she says sternly, trying not to yell to escalate the situation, “you do not get to tell me what to do, especially not being loud and harsh like that. I understand that you are upset and can’t find your shin guards and that your sister is being really loud. I get that. I don’t like it either, but yelling isn’t going to solve any of our problems.”

“Ada is yelling.”

“Henry,” she sighs while Ada lets out another loud cry. Shit, this is not a good day. It’s not even ten in the morning yet. “Ada is a baby. She can’t really talk. You know this. I’m going to text your dad and ask if he knows where your stuff is.”

“How would my dad know if he doesn’t live here anymore?”

Her stomach drops for a moment before she realizes that she used the wrong term for Killian. It’s usually not confusing, but sometimes it’s so easy to slip up like that.

“Your daddy,” she corrects. “I’m going to text your daddy.”

“Killian is _not_  my daddy. He’s my step dad.”

Her stomach really does drop then, a heavy anchor weighing her down and making it nearly impossible for her legs to stay steady and her arms to stay strong against a still wailing Ada, even if her cries are beginning to calm down. What did…what did Henry just say?

Why did he just say that Killian isn’t his daddy? She knew that sooner or later he’d feel too old to call Killian his daddy, that he wouldn’t always call him by the name he started calling him when he was five, but he’s not supposed to be calling Killian his step dad. Yeah, that’s pretty much what he is, _technically_ , but that’s also not what he is. He’s his dad. He’s the man who raised him, and Henry should never think otherwise when that used to be all he knew.

“Where did you learn that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Henry.”

He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest while his lips curl downward. Does she have the most dramatic kid in the world? Probably not. But he seems to be going for that title today. She’s just waiting for him to start crying or throwing things. Or hopefully not throwing things. That would be a disaster.

This day is kind of a disaster.

At least she hasn’t gotten to the point where she has to take away Henry’s games yet.

“My dad told me that’s what Killian is.”

_Motherfucking hell._

She’s going to start crying.

And throw something.

Maybe throw Neal. Definitely throw Neal. He’s bigger than her and hundreds of miles away, but she could get it done. She could. Absolutely. All of those stories about mothers raging to protect their children – one of those is going to come true after she figures out what the hell is going on. Neal wouldn’t have told Henry that. He wouldn’t have. But then why would Henry have said that? He obviously knew he wasn’t supposed to tell her before she pushed him into saying it, so he was probably trying to protect his dad.

But why would Neal have told Henry that in the first place when they explicitly told him over and over again that this is how their family situation works?

It must be some kind of misunderstanding. It has to be. Neal wouldn’t do that, and if he did, it has to be a mistake, a slip of the tongue. She’ll call him later and get it all straightened up. It’ll be fine. Right now she really just has to focus on Henry and this situation and getting him to his soccer game.

Swallowing the gulp caught in her throat, she puts Ada on the ground, figuring that’s probably all that she wants to stop this crying, and squats down so that she’s at eye level with Henry, reaching up to brush his hair off of his forehead while he stares at her with those watery chocolate brown eyes.

“Kid,” she whispers quietly, curving her lips into a small, hopefully reassuring smile while she keeps pushing his hair back, “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

Henry nods his head up and down, his little shoulders heaving while Ada has managed to make her way to Henry’s bed and is holding herself up on it. At least she’s not banging on the door.

“Killian is your daddy. You can call him Dad if you want to, if you feel too old to be calling him Daddy. That’s okay. You are a very special kid, and like I’ve told you before, you get to be lucky enough to have two dads who love you and care for you more than anything in the world. Not every kid gets that like you do.”

“But Dad told me when we were on the phone that Kil – that my daddy is my step dad. Like how Ella has a step mom.”

She doesn’t know how to explain this. It was easier when Neal was dead, which is a horrible thing to think. But Henry understood it much more easily then. He embraced it more. Now he’s older, though, and has an entirely different situation for his life.

She wishes Killian were here. He’d help and know what to do and know what to say despite the fact that this would break his heart even more than it’s breaking hers.

“It’s…it’s grown up things. I,” she sighs, running her free hand through her hair and trying to think while her thighs begin to ache from this position. “You know how when we told you about Ada being born, we told you it was because Mommy and Daddy loved each other and that helped to make her?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, back when your dad and I were married, we loved each other and made you so that we could love you.”

“I know.”

She smiles at him again, making sure that her eyes don’t leave his except to glance over to Ada as she plops down on the ground and starts messing with some of Henry’s books. Thank God she’s stopped crying. That was miserable. Her entire life was about to implode in the span of five minutes.

“But then your dad disappeared, and I didn’t have him to help me love you or me anymore. But your daddy came along and he fell in love with me _and_   with you. And he was around to help you learn how to walk and talk, just like he is with Ada. He took you to the pool to go swimming and to the playground. He went to all of your school plays and all of your birthday parties. He tucked you into your bed at night and read you stories, and he’s spent so much time loving you and me and your sister that I don’t think we can even imagine how much he loves us.”

Henry nods his head, and she desperately hopes that he understands. She doesn’t understand how to explain this without scarring Henry for life about sex when he is so not ready for that. She knows that some parents are fully open with their kids about things like that, but it’s not her parenting style.

“So he and my dad are the same?”

“Y-yeah,” she sputters, knowing that she needs to attack this conversation with a better plan later but thankful that things have seemed to calm down. “They’re the same. They’re both your dads, and they both love you so much that I bet your arms don’t even stretch out that far.”

Henry sticks out his arms to test the theory out, and she can’t help but chuckle at that. He has such childlike innocence and faith for someone who keeps having his life changed and uprooted, and even though she still feels like a frayed wire right now, she knows that she has a set of good kids in her life.

Leaning forward, she wraps Henry up in a hug and holds him as tightly as she can without smothering him. He hugs her right back, and she feels a little of the lead that’s in her stomach dissipate.

“Come on,” she says as she pulls back, “we’ve got some shin guards to find and a soccer game to go to.”

They find the shin guards in the kitchen of all places, and even though they have to practically sprint across the fields to get to his match, they make it in time. She knows a lot of the other parents there, a lot of them have kids in Henry’s class, but she prefers to sit under this tree in the shade with Ada. It’s at the corner of the field, so she still has a clear shot of Henry and he does of them.

_Emma: Where are you?_

_Emma: We’re already at the fields. Hope you get here soon!_

_Emma: We’ve had quite the morning. Can’t wait to tell you about it later._

She puts her phone down on the blanket and pulls Ada back to her so that she can adjust her hat on her head, making sure she’s totally shaded while she slathers more lotion on her.

“Mama,” Ada babbles, grabbing at her necklace with enough force that she could snap it. Emma has to immediately grab Ada’s hand and move it away before twisting the necklace around so that Ada can’t see the diamonds. “Mama. Mama. Mama.”

“What?” she laughs, scrunching her nose up when Ada tries to grab at it too. “Baby, you’re driving me crazy today. Nothing makes you happy, and you’re going to either rip my nose off or break the necklace your daddy gave me.”

Ada giggles at that, like it’s the funniest thing in the world, and Emma can do nothing more than shake her head as she continues to get Ada’s arms with lotion. She’s wearing a United jersey with Jones written across it that Killian got her. He’s so extra sometimes, and this is a prime example of it.

She kind of loves that.

Plopping Ada down on the blanket in front of her, she snaps a picture of her back with the soccer field in front of her, and sends it off to Killian, hoping that he’ll answer this one since he hasn’t answered any of her other texts and calls. She’s trying to ignore that and convince herself that it’s fine, but there’s this weird, sinking feeling that’s stayed with her all day. Maybe it’s the stress, or maybe it’s something else entirely.

_Emma: Henry’s number one fan!_

The rest of Henry’s game (or is it match? She’s really not sure.) goes by pretty quickly. He’s at the age where the kids are actually pretty competitive, so it’s not so much all of them running around and kicking balls in the wrong goal as it is them legitimately trying to win the game. Not quite as cute as it used to be, but Henry likes it. That’s all that really matters.

“Did you see me kick that goal?” Henry gasps when he runs over to her after the game, his hair covered in sweat and grass stains covering his knees. “It was awesome.”

“It was awesome,” she agrees, holding her hand up for him to high five him before holding Ada’s hand up so that she can do the same, even if it’s not with quite the same impact.

“Where’s Daddy?”

“He got called into work,” she lies, not too sure how to handle this situation. That seems to be happening a lot lately. “He’ll be home later, though.”

The smile that was on Henry’s face instantly fades, the upward curl twisting down. “He didn’t see my game?”

“No, kid. He didn’t. But he wanted to.”

“He promised that he’d come to all of my games.”

“I know,” she laments, bringing him into her side. Poor kid. Both of his dads have bailed on him this weekend, and she knows that if it’s just today, it won’t mess with him too badly. But if it’s…if it keeps happening, well, it can’t keep happening. She won’t let it keep happening. “But sometimes things happen that make us break our promises. I’m sure your daddy is so sad about not getting to see you score that goal.”

“Yeah,” Henry sighs, his shoulders sagging forward as she starts to pick up all of their stuff so they can walk to the car.

It doesn’t take long even navigating through all of the kids and parents, and soon enough she’s driving out of the soccer complex and on her way home with the kids so that Henry can get showered and Ada can take her early afternoon nap. The music cuts off in the car as a phone call comes in, and she hits the button on her steering wheel to accept Neal’s call, leaving it on speaker since he’s probably calling for Henry anyways. Good. If he can’t fly home this weekend because of work then at least Henry will have this.

“Hey, Neal,” she greets, pulling up to a stop light and inching closer to the car in front of her.

“Hey, Ems. How are you?”

“Good, good. We’re on our way home from Henry’s soccer game. Kid, why don’t you tell your dad what you did today?”

“I scored a goal,” Henry shouts from the backseat, his voice far too loud. “It was really cool. Avery kicked the ball to me, and I kicked it right past the Dragons’ goalie. She couldn’t stop me.”

“That’s awesome,” Neal laughs. She can practically imagine the smile on his face, and it makes something in her heart settle thinking of how much Neal is here for Henry even when he’s physically away.

 

* * *

* * *

 

 “Come on, Emma, push.”

“I can’t,” she cries, holding onto the handrails over the bed while a contraction roars through her body, making all of her limbs shake as she feels herself shutting down, feels her will to keep going fading. “I can’t do this by myself.”

“I am right here, Hon,” one of her nurses soothes, holding onto her hand even though Emma doesn’t know her name. She should know her name. She’s the woman who is by her side while she delivers her son. If she’s the only one going to be here, Emma should know her name. It’s too painful to ask. “You’re doing just great. So is your baby. His heartbeat is so strong, yeah. He gets that from you.”

“He’s okay? He’s still doing okay? This isn’t – this isn’t hurting him, ah, too much?”

Her nurse squeezes her hand, holding on tightly as she watches people move between her legs. She’s officially had her vagina stared at by more people than she ever thought would stare at it, and even though she doesn’t want to think about that and what’s happening right now, it’s all that she can focus on.

If she doesn’t, she’ll think about Neal.

He should be here.

He should be here holding her hand and helping her through this.

He should be here to hold his son when he’s born.

He should be here.

But he’s not. He can’t help it. He’s training. This is what he has to do. This is his job. He’s helping so many other people, and that’s what she has to remind herself. That’s what she has to keep repeating over and over again as she suffers through labor. Why did no one tell her how much this hurts? They did, but it was in broad terms. It wasn’t like this. It was never described like this. Everyone always glossed over it and told her that it would be all over and she’d have her baby in her arms and that everything would be okay.

How is this okay?

How is any of this fucking okay?

She’s by herself.

She’s alone and has no one here but this nurse who she still doesn’t know the name of to help her. Neal isn’t here. Ruth isn’t here. Neither is David. Or Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret would be good at helping here. She’s been through this. She’s so soothing even when she’s annoying and pushing all of her opinions on Emma.

She doesn’t even have any friends here. All of her friends are mostly Neal’s friends, and she doesn’t know any of them well enough to ask them to be here.

Why didn’t she make more friends? Why didn’t she keep some of hers from freshman year? She had friends, didn’t she? She had people she talked to and got lunch with. She knows that she did. She had to.

She’s been alone for so much of her life, but right here, right now, is the last place she ever thought she would be alone.

She can’t do this. She can’t. It’s too much.

Maybe she’s not meant to be a mother.

She can’t be one.

How could she when she didn’t have one for most of her life?

“I can’t be a mother,” she cries, tears stinging hotly behind her eyes while her contraction begins to wane. She knows it’s only a brief moment of reprieve. Her son is almost here. She knows that he is, that has to be. She’s been suffering in here for too long for him not to be here soon. She needs him to be here. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, Sweetie,” the nurse promises her, rubbing her thumb over her knuckles. Neal always does that, and it’s so damn soothing. She misses him. He should be here. She can’t stop thinking that. _He should be here_. “You can be a mother. It’s just scary right now, but you’re doing great trying so hard to help this boy come into the world.”

“But I’m alone,” she whispers, the words barely escaping her lips before they get captured by a sob, one that moves her shoulders and makes her vision completely blur.

She’s alone.

She thought she finally wouldn’t be, but she is. She’s alone and _terrified_.

But she’s been alone for most of her life, and the sad truth is that she knows how to deal with it. She knows how to deal with handling things by herself, how to deal with pain and happiness, with loss and with celebration.

She knows.

So she can do it. She can get through it. She has to.

She can be a mother.

She can be a mother for this kid. Maybe even for herself too.

Her eyes haven’t seen this kid outside of a black and white picture. Her hands haven’t felt him move except for the hard kicks to her ribs that have taken her breath away. Her arms haven’t held him except when she’s cradled her bump at night.

She doesn’t know anything about this kid, but she knows that she loves him. She knows that she wants to be his mom and to be there for him for every day of his life.

She knows.

This is her son, and she can do this.

And she does.

Even with the epidural, it’s possibly one of the most painful things she’s ever experienced, and she knows that doesn’t go away anytime soon. All of the books told her that about the recovery. But there was no way they could tell her the pure joy that she feels holding this red, squirmy baby in her arms. He’s beautiful. He’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen in her life, and she made him with her body.

She and Neal made him.

They’re parents. They’re freaking parents.

She can’t wait to tell him, to let him know that his son is here, but right now all she wants is to spend time with her boy, to get to hold him and never let go.

She’s never letting go.

“Hey, Henry,” she sighs, rubbing her finger across his cheek while he looks up at her. He has Neal’s nose. She always thought people who could tell who a baby looked like when they’re born are crazy, but her kid has Neal’s nose. “I’m your momma. I am. You are so precious, and I love you so damn much. I’m pretty sure you don’t understand what I’m saying, so that curse is just between you and me, okay? Yeah? Just between you and me. Your daddy never has to know.”

“You did a great job,” her nurse sighs as she stands at the door. “That’s a good baby with a healthy mom.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, leaning her head back against the pillow. It feels so comfortable, but she’s not ready to go to sleep quite yet. “It really means so much to me to have had someone to hold my hand throughout all of that.”

“It’s certainly not a problem.”

“Hey, what’s your name? I’m sorry I didn’t ask before. I was kind of busy.”

“Ingrid.”

“Thank you, Ingrid.”

Ingrid walks out of the room, and she turns all of her attention back to Henry and the roundness of his eyes, the dark lashes. He’s so bald, but he’s got this one little patch of dark hair. He’s beautiful. Just beautiful. And not crying, which she thinks she likes most of all.

“I think you and I are going to be good friends, kid,” she tells him, letting him grasp onto her finger. “Like, you eat food from my boob, so it’s pretty much a given that we’re going to be close. Just saying. My body has gone through a lot for your existence, and I expect some good mother’s day gifts someday. Your daddy knows what I like. Oh, I can’t wait for you to meet your dad. You’re going to love him. He’s so funny. I bet he’ll make you laugh all of the time, yeah? But not as much as me. Don’t tell your dad, but I’m so much funnier than him. He has no idea.”

Throughout the rest of the day, nurses and doctors come in and out to check on both she and Henry. She knows that she takes a lot of naps, but it’s all a bit of a blur for her as some of the pain starts to kick in and she struggles getting Henry to eat. Once he does, though, she feels like infinitely less of a failure. It’s a weird feeling, being so devastated by something that’s really not in her control, but she has to keep reminding herself that she’s not going to be perfect at this and that things are going to go wrong. Hell, so many have already.

But Henry is here and healthy, and that’s all that matters. That’s always been what matters.

“Thanks for making me not be alone anymore, kid.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

 Neal and Henry talk for the rest of the ride home, but really, it’s mostly Henry going on and on about his game and saying the same things several times while Neal pretends it’s brand new information to him. When she pulls into the garage, the door shutting behind them, she switches the call to her phone so that she can talk to Neal for a little bit while she sends Henry inside to take his shower, hoping that he’s actually going to wash himself instead of simply standing under the water.

“Thanks for calling him today,” she tells him as she rocks Ada back and forth in her glider, hoping that she’ll fall asleep soon and not have another meltdown. “It was kind of a big day for him, and you have no idea how much that means to him.”

“Of course. He’s my kid. Just because I’m not at home anymore doesn’t mean I’m not going to be there for him.”

Her heart lurches, practically dropping to the pit of her stomach, and she has to hold back the tears that are threatening to push through. That’s literally all she’s ever wanted since the day Henry was born.

“That’s good,” she sniffles, adjusting Ada in her arms. “You’re a good dad. You’ve done such a good job adjusting to being a parent to an eight-year-old who likes to talk back and who you can’t just cuddle with to make them stop crying.”

Neal hums on the other end of the line. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You sound a little upset.”

“I – ” she begins, almost ready to spill all of her thoughts to Neal, but she bites her tongue to hold herself back. She’s not about to share how upset she is with Killian with Neal. That’s pretty much asking for disaster. She knows that they have a good relationship, a good friendship, but they’re not the kind of exes who talk about their love lives with each other. Not in graphic detail. They talk about Henry and the movies and old times. She doesn’t tell him her intimate thoughts, not anymore. “It’s been a long day. The kids had me about ready to pull my hair out.”

“Killian didn’t help?”

“He got called into work,” she lies, telling Neal the same one she told Henry earlier. Killian will call soon. He has to.

Neal clicks his tongue.

“What?” she asks, watching Ada’s eyes flutter closed.

“Nothing.”

“It’s obviously something, Neal. I know you. You click your tongue when you have something to say.”

“It’s just that, well, shouldn’t Killian be around for Henry’s soccer game?”

“Sometimes things come up.”

“That’s still a shitty thing to do.”

She huffs, all of that anger from this morning returning as the memories flood back to her brain. How in the world did she forget that she needed to talk to Neal? It’s like she got lulled into some kind of false sense of security and didn’t even realize it.

“You missed his game today too, Neal. For the exact same reason.” She doesn’t know if Killian is at work right now, but that’s what she’s going with. Something must have happened for him not to be here. “And we are far too old to be playing petty games over who is being a better parent to Henry. By the way, where the hell do you get off telling Henry that Killian is his step dad?”

She can feel her voice begin to raise, so she gets up from the chair and puts Ada in her crib, hoping that she’ll fall asleep quickly. When she exits the nursery, she can still hear the shower going, so she walks down the hall and into her bedroom, moving to the bathroom so Henry will be less likely to hear her talk. She can’t begin to count the number of arguments she and Killian have had in the bathroom. They don’t yell too often, but she doesn’t want Henry to hear any of it when they do argue.

Neal still hasn’t said anything, so she asks again. “Why did you say that?”

“I didn’t,” he finally says, his voice completely even.

“Henry told me that you did.”

“He’s a kid. He says crazy shit.”

“He’s a smart kid who only says things when he’s learned them somewhere else. Just admit to it so we can talk about it. It’s already a tricky situation, so we don’t need it to get worse.”

“What’s tricky about it? He’s my kid, and Killian is pretty much his step dad. I mean, you two aren’t married, so not really. But I figured that made it less complicated.”

Less complicated her ass. Why is he being such an ass about this? This is not him, not anymore.

“First of all, he is Killian’s kid too. I have never let Henry think that you’re not his dad. You are. That’s something I’ve made a priority for him to understand ever since he was old enough. But you cannot take away Killian’s right to him as well. Killian helped me raise him, Neal. For most of Henry’s life, Killian has been Henry’s dad too. That doesn’t just change.”

“Well, it’s not my fault that I wasn’t fucking around to raise him.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“You might as well have, going on and on about Killian this, Killian that. Fuck, Ems. He’s not the greatest man in existence. You don’t have to put him on a pedestal.”

“I don’t.”

“Please,” he scoffs, and she feels acid swish in her stomach, twisting around as she settles down on the countertop next to the sink, her legs like jello beneath her. “You so do. Ever since I’ve come back it’s been all about Killian and the life you share and the daughter you have, like our marriage was absolutely nothing to you. I bet you didn’t even consider taking me back.”

“What the hell is your problem today? I’m trying to talk to you about our son to make sure that he doesn’t get confused, and you decide to be nasty to me? No, Neal, I didn’t really consider taking you back. Life moved on. It changed. But don’t you dare for a second think that I didn’t go through hell trying to figure out how to deal with things when you came home. I nearly lost my mind trying to handle everything. I care about you. You’re my friend, and I tried my best. But there’s no way you could have expected me to drop everything to be with you when I spent years grieving you.”

“I would have done it for you.”

“Bullshit. I loved you, but you never loved me in the same way. I didn’t realize it at the time, but now I know.”

“I think you’re making a mistake being with Killian.”

“I think you’re making a mistake trying to talk to me about this when it’s really none of your business.”

“If it affects my son, it is my business.”

She scoffs, bewilderment inching its way over all of her skin, gooseflesh rising. How fucking dare he try to turn this on her, try to gaslight her. This is what he’s always done. He’s always tried to steamroll her like this. She thought he’d changed, that he’s tried to be better, so why is he being like this? He shouldn’t be like this anymore.

“You know what affects your son, Neal?” she asks, her voice cold even to her own ears. “His dad fucking with how he thinks of one of his other parents. No part of that is okay, nor will it ever be okay. Don’t do it again.”

She hears him say her name on the other end of the phone, but she hangs up before he can say anything else. He’ll call back. She knows that he will, but she’s done with that conversation. It was ridiculous, in every single way. She knew it wouldn’t be comfortable bringing up the whole step parent thing, but she didn’t think it would ever turn into…that.

What the hell was that?

Neal hasn’t talked to her like that since he found out that she and Killian were together. It was harsh, but she understood in a way. Now though, she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t understand why he would be rude to her life that, why he would try to make her think that she’s doing something wrong by being with Killian, to make her think that she’s a bad mother. It’s how he used to talk to her, but it’s not how the man she’s known as talked to her ever since he came back.

It’s not supposed to happen like that anymore.

All she wants to do is cry, but she’s too tired to cry. If she starts, she may not be able to stop. It’s all too much. Today has been too much for her, and she still doesn’t know where Killian is, what’s going on with him. In the back of her mind she thinks that maybe she should be calling hospitals to make sure that he’s not in one, but something in her gut keeps her from doing that. She does text Mary Margaret and David, however, hoping that maybe one of them will have the answer.

She needs to know, and worry is slowly covering each inch of her skin.

“Mom,” Henry calls, stepping into her bathroom.

“Yeah, kid?”

“Can you make me a hot dog?”

“Sure,” she sighs, giving him a watery smile and wiping away at her eyes. “Let’s go do that.”

The rest of her day is spent with her kids, trying to entertain the both of them with games and movies, even going outside to play on the play set for awhile. She never hears from Killian, and only Mary Margaret texts her back to say that she hasn’t heard from him and that David’s got a busy day at work and probably won’t get back to her until his shift is over. It bothers her, makes her practically sick to her stomach, but she can’t focus on it as she focuses on making sure Ada and Henry have a good day.

It’s what she has to do if she’s doing this alone today.

That night, after she’s got Ada in her crib, she walks to the next room over and into Henry’s. They both cleaned up in here a bit today, so she doesn’t step over any legos or sharp objects as she crawls into his bed behind him, wrapping her arm around his waist and holding onto her son like her life depends on it.

Maybe sometimes it does.

“What are you doing?” he mumbles, still flipping through one of his books.

“Cuddling with you because I love you so much.”

He squirms, but he still settles into her. “I love you too.”

“What are you reading?”

“Matilda.”

“That’s a good one.”

“I know. I like it. She has magic.”

She nods her head and settles it down onto Henry’s shoulder, reading behind him while he mumbles some of the words out loud. She doesn’t know how she got a kid who loves to read when she remembers hating it at his age, but she’s really thankful for that.

She’s thankful for Henry and how he changed her entire life for the better on the day he was born, how he brought magic into her life in a time that was so dark that even the stars seemed to disappear, blinking out one by one until there was no light left.

Except for Henry. He has always been the light.

“Did you know I love you?” she whispers to him.

“Yeah, you already said that.”

“I know.” She kisses his cheek and holds him a little closer. “It’s just that I love you and Ada so much that sometimes my heart can’t contain it, and I have to keep telling you so that you know how much I love you, how much I’ll always love you forever.”

“I love you and Ada too,” he says simply. She knows that he means the words, but they don’t have the same emotional depth that her words do. Good. He doesn’t need to feel how she’s feeling, like her heart is threatening to break into pieces over how much she loves him.

“And your dad and your daddy love you too. So much more than you even know.”

“I know. Mom, you’re making it hard to read my book.”

Emma chuckles, kissing his cheek again before she shifts out of the bed, figuring that she’s smothered him enough for tonight. Just because she needs to time with him doesn’t mean that he wants it. “In thirty minutes your light needs to be off and you need to be asleep, okay?”

“Whatever.”

“Henry.”

“Okay.”

“Good. Night, kid. Thanks for making me feel like I have real magic in my life.”

“Goodnight, Mom.”

She closes his door behind her and makes her way downstairs, quickly checking on Ada on her way. The house is quiet, only the sounds of the air conditioner running and the refrigerator making ice filling the space. Usually she’d crave something like this. She’d crave having peace and quiet and not having to worry about anything for a little while. She can fix herself a cup of hot chocolate and settle down in front of the television to watch whatever she wants. Those are the nights she craves sometimes, but now that she has one of those, she wants none of it.

All she wants is for this day to be over, possibly for this day not to exist. Frankly, it sucked, and she knows that not everything will be fixed when she wakes up in the morning. She’s still pissed at Neal. Like, if he were home she would probably have the urge to punch him pissed. She’s worried about Henry and how everything is impacting him. She’s already emailed Dr. Hopper today, but sometimes she’s worried that him going to therapy and them trying so much to give him a good life is not enough.

Sometimes she worries that she is not enough.

That she’s not enough for her children.

That she’s not enough for Killian.

He has only made her feel that way once in all of their time together, and she doesn’t hold it against him, not anymore. She understands everything that he was going through. But right now, today, she needs him, and he’s not here.

She falls asleep on the couch, and when she wakes, it’s to a twist in her neck and a twist of the front door handle, Killian coming inside as quietly as possible. At first, she’s relieved that he’s okay, that he’s home, but then she remembers the absolute hell that she’s been through all day without him by her side, without him answering any of her calls.

“Where have you been?” she whispers. She thought the words would be louder, harsher, but she finds that she can barely get them past her lips.

Right now she’s just relieved that he’s okay, that his heart is still beating within his chest.

“Why aren’t you asleep, love?” Killian asks her, stepping into the bright light of the living room so that she can see the red rim around his eyes. “You should go to bed.”

“I’d really rather know why you ignored all of my calls all day long.”

“I’ll tell you in the morning.”

“Damn it, no,” she yells, this time the words coming out as she sits up further on the couch, “tell me now. I’m done being pushed around today. You have been gone. I have been worried. Henry has been worried, and you walk in here at two in the morning telling me that we’ll talk later. No, that’s not how this works.”

Killian nods his head while his lips press together in a firm line. He looks exhausted and like he’s been crying, and beneath all of her anger, she feels the worry for him that she’s felt all day.  
  
“You’re right,” he sighs, his lashes landing against his cheeks as he looks at the ceiling before his gaze finally finds hers. “I’ve got some things to talk to you about.”


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, who is ready to find some things out? Now, mind you, it won't be *all* of the things, but I now have everything but the epilogue completely written and you'll find out soon enough!
> 
> Thank you guys for being so awesome! 💛

“You’re right,” he sighs, his lashes landing against his cheeks when he closes his eyes and tilts his head toward the ceiling, trying to muster all of his courage to talk to Emma. He desperately needs it. “I’ve got some things to talk to you about.”

He hasn’t even truly said anything yet, but telling Emma that he needs to talk to her, letting her know that he’s been holding things back, it lifts a slight weight off of his shoulders, as if that helps. He’s heavy, his limbs weighed down by lead, and he’s so damn tired that sometimes he thinks his body might stop working completely, all of his vital organs shutting down until he’s just _done_.

It’s been one of the longest days of his life. The only ones that he remembers that are longer were days at sea when the sun never seemed to rise, everything shrouded in a heavy darkness that made the air feel denser and the breeze cooler, chilling him to his bones even under his thick jacket. Those are days he doesn’t want to remember, but they’re the ones etched at the front of his brain, mixed in with memories of a vibrant blonde with a laugh that sounds of music and a smile that would have brought light to those lightless days.

One outshines the other, always, but right now he’s not sure of anything except for the fact that he’s about to break down his family, and it’s the absolute last thing he wants to do. He’d rather hoard all of this away, keep it to himself and to David, but he set that ball in motion weeks ago, and it’s been a whirlwind ever since, everything tumbling and falling down much faster than he ever could have imagined. A part of him wishes that he could go back, that he could take it all back and have never started any of this, but at the end of the day, this is for the best.

Even if it’ll be for the worst first.

Bloody asshole. He’s a bloody asshole.

There’s no way he could have ever kept any of this to himself when Emma deserves so much more than to be lied to.

Again.

Rubbing his hand against his forehead, trying to work away the stress and the lack of sleep, he takes the last few steps to the living room and sits down on the loveseat across from Emma, still trying to muster the courage to look at her and look at the hurt in her eyes that he knows is his fault right now and that he’s only going to make worse.

He would give everything he has, every part of his being, to never have to hurt her or their children again.

He can’t believe he missed Henry’s soccer game today. That seems like such a small thing, but he made a promise that he broke.

“Where have you been?” she questions, curling herself into a small ball and pulling the blanket up over her shoulders, her bun bouncing on the top of her head. She looks like she’s settling down to watch a movie with Henry, not like she’s about to have this conversation that’s going to change their lives. “Were you – ”

“God no,” he finishes for her, not even letting her entertain the idea of him being unfaithful to her. He knows that’s where her head must have been all day even though she likely doesn’t truly think that. She must have been somewhere between him being an asshole, cheating on her, and being dead in a ditch on the side of the road. He’s not sure which thought he prefers. “I would never. I’m – I’m sorry about today. I’m sorry that I didn’t get a chance to call you and that I made you worry. I’m sorry that I missed Henry’s game. I know he must be so mad at me, and I will try to make it better with him, okay? I would never do anything to intentionally harm either of you.”

She nods her head, shuffling a bit more underneath the blanket, but her lips stay in a firm line. “But where were you?”

“I was with David.” Her brows furrow, and he takes a breath, centering himself and trying to keep all of his organs intact as he bites the bullet. Or, at least, tries to. “Emma, sweetheart, I’m going to tell you something that sounds absolutely insane, and I need you to listen to me, okay? I know that you’re mad at me, as you should be, but there’s good reason for it.”

“What are you talking about? And what do you mean you were with David? He was working today. That’s what Mary Margaret said. Oh God, are they having issues? Is that what this was?”

“No, no,” he promises, his heart breaking a little at her thinking that her brother was having issues in his marriage. “They’re fine. David really was working, and I was with him.”

“Why?”

“I’m trying to get there, love. I am. It’s simply hard, and I don’t know how to tell you.”

“Just tell me, okay? We’re not supposed to lie to each other, yeah? We’re a team. That’s what we say. We’re on the same team.”

His eyes slam shut to hold back tears, her words already too much for him when he has been lying to her after saying he wouldn’t, after working so damn hard for their relationship to get back to this point. She’s been hurt so badly in the past, and nearly every day that he’s been with her he has tried to make sure that he wouldn’t hurt her the same way. He’s not perfect. He’s screwed up many times, but she deserves so much more than the circumstances of her past.

Than the circumstances of her present too.

“I’ve been lying to you,” he whispers, too cowardly to open his eyes to see her face. “I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t say anything until I knew for sure. I’ve – Emma, I’ve been losing my mind since February thinking that I’m crazy and delusional and that my mind has run wild on one too many theories.”

“Killian, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Neal is a fucking liar,” he blurts out, the words tumbling off his tongue without hesitation as one weight is lifted off of his shoulder while another is pressed down, crushing him further into the ground. With everything he says he feels momentarily lighter before feeling heavier once more. “His past, Emma, the missing years, they’re all lies.”

He opens his eyes and watches her process his words, watches the lines on her forehead appear, watches the gaping mouth, watches her eyes twitch as she looks around the room at anything but him. And if he could see under her blanket, he’d know that she’s tapping her fingers against her leg on the couch cushions.

“What do you mean? They’re not lies. He was captured. He disappeared. I know this. You know this. It’s been drilled into our heads over and over again through every news channel and every briefing we got before he came back. He was captured and tortured and has been through hell, and it took eight years for someone to find him and bring him home.”

“It’s not…Emma, I know that’s what we’ve thought. Why wouldn’t we? It has been our truth and our driving force to what has kept us sane, but it’s not true. I – ” he hesitates, reaching up to run his hand through his hair, fingers harshly tugging at the strands as his stomach twists inside of him, nausea beginning to take over like it’s been threatening to since David called him while he was in the middle of the supermarket this morning and asked him if he could meet him at the precinct as soon as possible because a federal agent wanted to talk to him. It was the last thing he expected when he went to David weeks again. He doesn’t know exactly what he expected. All he knows is that it wasn’t really this, and nothing was supposed to happen this quickly.

Really, all he wanted was for David to tell him that he was crazy and that nothing was wrong with Neal.

He left the cart of groceries in the middle of the frozen food aisle.

“Do you remember when you took Ada to her nine-month check-up? How I took Henry to therapy that day and gave Neal a ride as well?” She nods in response, and he continues. “When I was in the lobby after dropping Henry off, I saw Neal get into a random car despite the fact that he was supposed to be in therapy. At first, I thought maybe it was nothing. He’s a grown man. He can make his own choices, and maybe he didn’t want to go to therapy anymore but simply hadn’t found a way to tell us. But then I got a little paranoid, and I just had this feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right, that all of these little things about Neal since he came home weren’t adding up.”

“He got into a car? That’s not…that’s weird, but I don’t understand why that’s a big deal.”

“There was a possibility that it wasn’t, love. It could have been nothing, but it wasn’t. Neal has hidden a lot from us, and I had been letting go of all of the little inconsistencies up until that point. But then I started to piece them together, started to do a map of things like when I’m at work, and after that man came up to us at the zoo in DC and thought he knew Neal, I broke down and had to tell someone all of my thoughts and how I was going crazy.”

Emma’s lips part, and he knows that he’s losing her. She thinks that he’s insane, that he’s lost it, and she deserves to think that right now. She does. He thought the same thing. He simply hopes that by the time he finishes explaining, carefully working his way through this so that she can best understand, have her hear it from him instead of some federal agent like she’s going to have to in the next few days when she’s also pulled in for questioning.

Tears continue to sting behind his eyes as he thinks of all Emma is about to go through and all their son is about to go through as well and for the rest of his life. All he wants is to take the woman he loves and the children he has with her to a quiet house on the coast, the ocean in their view, and hold them to keep them away from the situation they’ve found themselves in.

“Who did you tell?”

“David.”

“Why didn’t you…what did you tell him?”

“I asked him if he could help me or if I really needed to get my shit together and stop hyper-fixating on something that was nothing. But he agreed. He thought something about Neal was suspicious too, that he knew a little too much of what had happened in the past eight years, that he was acting strangely, and agreed to try to look into it for me as a favor.”

“What the fuck?” Emma groans, tossing her blanket to the side and standing up from the couch, pulling her leggings up and tugging her t-shirt down. “Killian, seriously. What the fuck are you on about saying Neal is suspicious and that he wasn’t really captured the entire time? Of course he was. And yes, I know that he does shady things and that he can be a shitty person, but that doesn’t mean any of it is suspicious. I mean, seriously. He’s just a douche sometimes. Did you know that he tried to get Henry off of calling you his daddy because he doesn’t like that I’m with you and not him all of the sudden? I mean, what kind of jackass move is that when he’s been so good about things?”

His stomach twists again, the nausea settling itself down, and he feels anger flicker across his skin, goosebumps rising across each centimeter of flesh. He didn’t even think that it was possible for him to feel more.

“He did what now?”

Emma groans and presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, rubbing them a bit as she paces back and forth in front of the fireplace.

“Today has been awful, babe. Just awful. Henry couldn’t find his shin guards, and we were running late to his game. And while we’re looking, Ada decides to melt down. Like screaming and crying and yelling so loudly that my ears wanted to burst. So obviously this upset Henry and I said something…I don’t even remember, but I said something about texting you and asking if you were on your way home to help. And he just yells at me that you’re not his daddy, that you’re his step dad which I think broke my heart until a million little pieces which only got worse when you didn’t show up to his game and when you didn’t answer my calls. I – ”

Emma stops her rant to straighten her shoulders, her chest visibly moving with her breath as she wipes at the tears under her cheeks. He has no idea what’s happening, no idea what kind of mess he’s wandered into on top of the one he’s created. All he knows is that he has to brave this storm until it’s over.

“- I haven’t felt that alone in _months_ ,” she finally continues, pacing again, and he knows exactly when she last felt that alone. “Our kid needed you today. I swear there is nothing he loves more than having you cheer for him at those games. But you weren’t there, and you didn’t bother to let me know where you were. That hurts, Killian. You can’t lie to me because I have to be able to trust you. I have to be able to trust that one day you’re not going to turn on me and decide that I am not enough or decide that our kids are not enough. I need to be able to…I can’t have you treat me like Neal did, like he still does sometimes. You’re my best friend who I rely on for _everything_ , and I don’t know how to reconcile whatever it is you’re trying to tell me with my real life when I’m still reeling from the emotional whiplash of my day. It’s two in the fucking morning.”

He can’t help himself when he stands, stepping around the coffee table so that he can pull Emma into his arms despite the fact that she’s got her arms crossed over her chest and isn’t returning his embrace. She’s pissed at him. It’s understandable. She should be. He should have been here today. He should have called. He should have done something to let her know that he was okay and that he wouldn’t be home so that maybe she wouldn’t have felt so alone. There’s so much to unpack with what she’s saying, complications that he never saw arising when he prepared himself for this conversation. They’re tired and emotional, and they still have so much more to talk about. He still hasn’t been able to tell Emma the real, whole truth.

He's barely touched the surface, and he’s _terrified_.

“You, Emma Swan,” he starts, rubbing his hands up and down her back in soothing circles as she hiccups into his shoulder, “will always be enough. Not just for me but for everyone and hopefully, if you believe it, for yourself. I will never want to leave you or our children. I cannot express enough how the three of you are my world. I screwed up today, screwed up these last few months, but I promise I had the right intentions behind it. I simply need you to listen, and if you want to kick me out of the house afterwards, you can. But I promise every word out of my mouth is the truth. Use your superpower. Use your trust in me.”

She nods and wraps her arms around his waist, squeezing tightly enough that he can feel his breath escape him.

“So tell me.”

And he does.

They both make their way into the kitchen and start a cup of coffee, the two of them knowing that it’s going to be a long night without much sleep, if they get any sleep at all. Whether she believes him or not they still have things to talk about, and it’s all happening whether they like it or not.

He hates it.

So over a cup of coffee he tells Emma all about how David started poking around and using his resources as a detective to figure out all of the inconsistencies that Neal has shown since he got back. Emma still looks distraught, confused even, and he wonders just how much all of her muddled feelings for Neal are causing her to be resistant and in denial. He understands. The same thing happened to him.

The same thing is still kind of happening to him.

David couldn’t find out much, especially since it wasn’t a case he was assigned to and most of the things Killian had mentioned were circumstantial that honestly couldn’t be looked into, but he did manage to track down traces of a Neal Gold in London between two thousand and twelve and last year. It wasn’t much, just a few trails on Facebook, but there were photographs online of a Neal Gold being pictured at the Three Kings Pub after a United game, just like Kyle Thomasson had said. Kyle ended up being the key in it all, oddly enough, and Killian still can’t decide if running into him at the zoo in DC was a blessing or a curse. To him, it seems like something akin to fate, and he’s not quite sure if he believes in that.

Kyle was in university three years ago and active on Instagram, seemingly documenting everything with his mates. He had several pictures of all of them in the pub wearing Manchester United jerseys, and in one picture timestamped March tenth, two thousand and sixteen, Neal was in the background sitting at a bar counter staring almost directly at the camera.

Decidedly not a prisoner of war in Iraq.

David said he’d nearly fallen out of his chair at work, the wheels rolling underneath him, and he’d had to catch himself on his desk as he stared at the picture for nearly an hour before shaking his head and realizing that Killian was right, that something wasn’t adding up.

That Neal wasn’t adding up.

David hadn’t really been sure what to do with that information, had mulled over it for a few days when fate seemed to knock on his door in the form of FBI Agent Graham Humbert. Apparently, every prisoner of war, especially those who were captured for an extended period time and then released, are monitored when they come home. There have been incidents in the past of men and women who come home seemingly normal and then end up in terroristic plots. It’s all very secretive and hush hush, but it happens for select veterans.

Neal has been one of those.

The FBI and the CIA have been keeping tabs on him since the day he came back.

Fucking insane. It’s all insane.

“They’ve been watching us?” Emma asks quietly, wiping away some of the sleep in her eyes as she comes back to herself a bit, some color returning to her cheeks. Good. he feels a little less nauseous too.

“Aye. Mostly Neal, but also us.”

“That’s all very big brother-ish. Is that even legal?”

He shrugs. “Apparently so.”

“I still don’t…I don’t understand. Are you saying that Neal is a terrorist? That he was turned against the country?”

“No, no, love,” he assures her, tapping his fingers against the table, even if that’s only true in the most technical sense. “But he isn’t – Neal isn’t – he isn’t…Neal has been living in London with his father for most of the past decade.”

“Neal’s dad is dead.”

“He’s not,” Killian sighs. He was shocked by the information too. Emma must be even more so since he knows that being orphans is something Emma and Neal once bonded over. It’s something the two of them have bonded over themselves. “Neal’s father is Robert Gold. That’s Neal’s real name. It’s Gold, but he changed it to Cassidy about twenty years ago.”

“None of this is making any sense.”

“I know,” he promises as he reaches across the table and places his hand over hers, wishing he could work away the worry lines on her forehead. “It will, though. I promise. You just have to trust me.”

“I do.”

Thank the heavens.

So he tells her that Neal’s mother is actually dead and really had been from Boston. That part is true, but his father is a businessman in London who owns an engineering firm. The thing is that within the engineering firm is what is suspected to be an illegal weapons manufacturer. Interpol and Scotland Yard have been surveying it for years, but they’ve never been able to find any proof that the weapons were stemming from the business. It’s all been well covered to the point that they nearly gave up, but then several shipments of illegal weapons started popping up in America in October of last year.

And Neal Gold isn’t quite as good at covering his tracks as his father is.

“I don’t understand,” Emma murmurs under her breath, picking her legs up and settling them in her chair.

“He’s been illegally selling weapons to criminals, Swan, and he’s been caught. Almost.”

“No, no. It’s…” She takes a sip of her coffee and lingers with it on her lips before placing it on the table and rubbing her fingers between her brows to work out the lines. “I understand that bat shit crazy thing. I still feel like I’m having a fever dream and you’re going to kiss me and I’ll wake up in bed and none of this will be real, but I don’t understand…I’m missing the connection between him being deployed, somehow escaping captivity from terrorists, and then going to work for his apparently alive father who is some kind of criminal mastermind. And then coming back here to us. Like, that doesn’t make any sense, and I’m not entirely sure that I don’t need to have you admitted to a mental institution.”

“I’m not crazy, sweetheart.”

“Her eyes roll. What you’re saying is.”

“I know,” he sighs, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before looking at Emma. He’s only had a few hours to truly process this even when he’s had suspicions for weeks, and he’s still in disbelief. Mostly he’s angry, angry enough to want to punch the bastard hard enough to knock all of his teeth out and break his nose, but that has nothing to do with how he’s been aiding in violence across the world for money and everything to do with the fact that Killian knows that Neal left Emma and could have come back home.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t come home for years, and he _could have_.

He abandoned his wife and his son, and Killian has never felt more hatred coursing through his blood than he has at that thought.

“Emma, my love, we don’t know all of the details yet. Agent Humbert and his associates, they won’t tell us everything because we’re civilians. We don’t have that kind of clearance, but they’re involving us because they think we might be able to give them information on what Neal has been doing since he came home or that maybe we can tell them more on why he came home.”

“He came home because he was rescued. That’s what happened. He couldn’t have been living in London all of those years. He couldn’t have because if he has been, that would mean…oh God, that would mean…h-he left me,” she sobs, hand going over her mouth as he entire body shakes, large tear droplets falling down her cheeks in a steady stream that he thinks may stain her skin forever. “He left _us_.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

 He watches her walk down the stairs, his eyes scanning up from the black stilettos and dark tights to the gray and white plaid skirt with a fitted black turtle neck tucked in, the sweater fitting all of her curves. It’s not at all what he was expecting her to wear tonight, especially since he saw this sinful red dress hanging in their closet last night. If he’s honest, he was looking forward to that knowing the way that it hugs Emma’s curves, but he’s not idiotic enough to not appreciate the way his girlfriend looks right now. They spend most of their time together in joggers and t-shirts, usually with a mysterious stain from something Henry did despite the fact that he’s six years old and should only be staining his own clothes.

“Hot damn, woman,” he whistles, stepping forward to grab her hand so that he can help her down the rest of the staircase. She smiles in return, a little blush coating the apples of her cheeks. “I do believe I’m the luckiest man in all of Maine.”

“I’d think so,” Emma laughs, finally stepping down on the wooden floor and releasing his hand. “I mean, there’s no way you could do better than me, Jones.”

“And yet you say I’m cocky.”

“You are.” She looks up at him and raises her brows, the corners of her red-painted lips curving up even more. “But you don’t get to have that term all to yourself. You have to share.”

“I’ve never been very good at that.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Is it?”

“Definitely.” She reaches forward and places her hand on his chest, her fingers tapping against his shirt. “So I had this red dress – ”

“I saw.”

“Did you now?”

He raises a brow and hums in response, placing his hands on her hips and tugging her a little closer. “I did, and though I told myself not to be stupid enough to ask, I figured since you brought it up – ”

“ – that you could ask why I’m not wearing it for our date?”

“Yep.”

“Well, it’s a funny story,” she starts, her hands snaking up his chest until they land on his shoulders, fingers curling into the cotton of his dress shirt. “You see, I woke up with this awfully large bruise right in the center of my chest because it seems that someone got a little overenthusiastic last night. Some would say possessive, but that’s not true because he wouldn’t be dumb enough to try to mark me.”

He has to hold in his laugh as the tips of his ears heat, most likely going red, and he waggles his brows. “I did say I wasn’t very good at sharing.”

“Asshole. You – ”

“Momma,” Henry interrupts, somehow stepping between them despite their proximity to each other, “I don’t feel good.”

“What’s wrong, kid?” Emma soothes, stepping back and reaching down to move Henry’s hair off of his forehead. He’s weird about people touching his hair, but he always lets Emma do it.

“My tummy hurts.”

Her eyes glance toward him for a moment, brows furrowed together, and he watches Emma flip her hand around and press the back of her it to Henry’s forehead. “You’re burning up. How long have you felt bad?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, okay,” Emma sighs. “Let’s get your temperature taken and then get some medicine in you. Babe – ”

“You want to stay home with him?”

“Yeah. I just…don’t call David and Mary Margaret to cancel just yet, but he’s really warm. I don’t want him to get Leo sick or for them to have to deal with a sick kid. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he promises, stepping to the side so that he can move into the kitchen with them following him. He opens the cabinet where they keep the medicine and pulls out the thermometer and a bottle of ibuprofen before stopping to think. “Lad, do you want the medicine that you drink or that you chew?”

“What flavor is it?”

“Both are bubblegum.”

“The kind I drink.”

He nods his head and puts back the chewable to grab the liquid while handing Emma the thermometer so she can take Henry’s temperature. Both times it comes back just over one hundred degrees. It’s not the worst temperature in the world, but it is a temperature above normal. Besides, Emma has already made up her mind that they’re staying home tonight, so while she toes out of her heels and gets Henry medicated and changed into his pajamas, he calls David and Mary Margaret and tells them the change of plans, insisting to Mary Margaret that it’s fine, that they’ll have date night another day when Henry isn’t feeling under the weather.

After he’s finished all of that, he grabs two water bottles out of the fridge and moves to the living room, settling down next to Henry on the couch as Emma puts on the movie Robots. It’s a bit older, but Henry is absolutely obsessed with it. Killian believes that they’ve watched it at least five times in two weeks, and a part of him wonders when that phase is going to be outgrown.

“Why does he say making the baby robot is the fun part?” Henry innocently ponders, looking up at him with those big brown eyes that he swears could melt the ice caps. “It didn’t look very fun.”

He nearly chokes on his own lung, the adult joke in the movie going over Henry’s head even if he still asked about the joke. It’s times like these where being a dad is both mortifying and hysterical.

“People like different things, lad, and they happened to like making their baby robot. It was fun for them, so that’s what matters.”

“That’s weird.”

“One day you won’t think so.”

Emma reaches over and slaps his shoulder, but he doesn’t care as he laughs to himself and keeps watching the movie, answering all of Henry’s questions along the way. The finish Robots and start the Lion King, which Killian has seen infinitely more times than any other movie they own, but even after Henry has fallen asleep with his head resting on Emma’s chest, they keep watching in silence until he hears a small sniffle beside him.

Twisting his head, he looks at Emma to see her wiping at her eyes, and he’s just about to tease her for crying at a movie she can (and has) recite when he realizes that her tears are not simply tears from watching the movie, the sobbing far too intense.

 “Hey, hey,” he whispers, his heart constricting a bit as he watches Emma’s eyes fill with tears, “come here, love.” She nods her head before gently getting up from the couch so as not to disturb Henry and slowly settles down on his lap, crossing her legs over each other and resting her head on his shoulder as her arms become a heavy presence on his waist. He’s not exactly sure what’s happening right now, so he simply wraps the arm that’s not around Henry around Emma and rubs up and down her back. “What’s wrong, Swan? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I get nervous when Henry gets sick. I don’t – I can’t explain it. I mean, this obviously isn’t the first time he’s been sick or the worst of it, and it’s certainly not the worst you’ve seen but I – ”

“ – you get nervous,” he finishes for her when she stops talking, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Sweetheart, I understand. I don’t like when he’s sick either, but he’s going to be just fine. It’s simply a little cold.”

“I know, I know,” she sniffles, her voice barely audible with her mouth pressed into his shoulder. He can feel the vibrations of her voice more than he can hear her, and it’s likely a good thing with Henry right next to them snoozing away. “It doesn’t make any sense, but I’m so scared of something happening. He is my baby, and for a long time, he was all I had. It was me and Henry against the world, and I would do absolutely anything to protect him from the world. I don’t know – I…it’s the anniversary of Neal being deployed soon. I don’t have a death date for him, so I’ve always gone with when he was deployed, and that’s tomorrow.”

“I didn’t even realize.”

“That’s because I never told you that was the day I remembered it.”

“Why not? You know that I understand, that I miss him too.”

“Yeah, but…he was my husband, and I loved him. I know that he wasn’t perfect, but I did love him. He made me happy a lot of the time. He gave me – I have Henry because of him. It’s been six years, and sometimes it feels like I just lost him yesterday.”

He gulps back his sigh, gulps back a lot of his words. Talking about Neal can either be the easiest thing in the world or the most difficult. Some days he and Emma share lighthearted stories, but other days she grieves him like she’s doing right now. She grieves his death, grieves him missing Henry’s life, grieves him missing her life.  Emma is hands down the strongest person he knows. He’s been through shit in his life, seen friends and family die, has had his heart broken, but he’s never been left with a newborn and told that his spouse died. He’s never…he lost a friend. He didn’t lose someone who was supposed to be his lifelong confidant.

But he can imagine. If he ever lost Emma, he doesn’t think he’d be able to move on. He wouldn’t want to. He’d never love again if he lost her. He’s young. He has a long life ahead of him, but if he lost Emma, he would never recover from that. He’d do it for Henry, be there to raise him and to be there for him, but the loss of Emma would destroy him.

No part of him is as strong as Emma is, so when he sees her break down like this, it breaks him. He wants to be strong for her, though. She makes him stronger, and he can find the words to help her through tonight and every other night where she’s scared and possibly even a little lonely missing Neal.

“Time doesn’t heal all wounds,” he promises, holding her a little closer as he remembers his mother’s death. “It certainly helps, but it doesn’t heal them. It doesn’t matter that it’s been six years. It doesn’t matter that Henry is older. It doesn’t matter that we’re together. You’re hurting Emma, and you should never feel ashamed by that.”

“I do, though,” she sobs, the tears getting loud enough that he encourages her to wrap her arms around his neck so that he can stand from the couch, lifting her in his arms to carry her out of the room. He’ll come back and get Henry later. She usually doesn’t let him do this outside of in a passionate embrace, but sometimes in moments like this she allows herself some weakness that is truly strength.

“You’re fine,” he promises as he sits them down on the bed upstairs, letting Emma cry into his shoulder. He already knows that she’s going to be embarrassed later, that she won’t want to talk about it again, but she shouldn’t feel that way. She usually doesn’t, but it’s always this way when she’s missing Neal. “You’re fine, my love. You can miss him all you want. I want you to miss him. He loved you so much, Emma. Probably more than anything in the world, and he didn’t leave you because he wanted to. He was doing a very honorable thing, and he would be so proud of the woman and the mom that you are. Oh, he would be so proud of you.”

She nods her head, her entire body shaking as she curls herself further into him. She’s still got on her outfit she was going to wear on their date tonight, but the difference between three hours ago and now might as well be the difference between the moon and the sun. Of all the twists and turns that tonight has taken, this is the last one he expected.

“I love you,” he continues, pressing the words against her forehead and nudging her back so that he can make an attempt to wipe away the tears, the black mascara likely making it too difficult as she blinks up at him, “and I will always, always be by your side.”

Her bottom lip quivers a little bit as she wipes at her own tears and the snot that’s beginning to run. “I love you too. God, I’m such a mess. I just spiraled out of control there, didn’t I?”

And there’s that Emma deflection, even if this isn’t the worst one he’s ever heard.

“No, it was totally understandable. You had a bad night. Your son is sick, and you had to cancel a date with the most handsome man in the world. I think I’d cry too.”

She snickers, her lips almost forming a smile, before she reaches down and pulls the cover up over her shoulder and his lap. “You’re such a ridiculous flirt.”

“I simply wanted to see you smile. It seems like you needed it.”

“I did. I don’t – will you sit with me for a little while longer? I think I’m going to have a few more breakdowns before I’m finished.”

“Of course. Though I do think that I already used up all of my good words of advice.”

“They were very good words.”

“I know. I should be a motivational speaker.”

Emma leans a little closer to him and presses a kiss onto the underside of his jaw. “I love you. Thank you for falling in love with the crazy lady who has far too many issues. I’m sorry that I – ”

“Emma, I never want you to be sorry for any part of your past,” he tells her as he brushes her hair behind her ear, feeling her soft skin underneath his fingertips. “You should never apologize for having loved someone who made you happy.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

 “How could he have l-left me? How could he h-h-have left H-henry? I…I – ” Her words stop when her cries become too much, and even as tears sting behind his own eyes and he watches as Emma’s world burns down in front of his eyes, watches as every truth she’s ever known turns out to be a lie, he cannot sit here and not hold her. He cannot let her think that his love for her has ever been a lie because it never has been and never will be.

“Emma,” he whispers, pushing back his chair and ignoring the harsh scrape of it against the wood while he squats down in front of her, placing his left hand on her shaking arm and rubbing up and down while his right hand rests on her knee in an attempt to coax her into looking at him. “Emma, darling, why don’t we go sit down somewhere more comfortable, okay? Let’s go upstairs to our room, yeah?”

She nods her head up and down while he listens to the heartbreaking sounds of her sobs. He feels sick to his stomach, especially since all of this is so far from over, but right now his only concern is to make sure that Emma is as okay as she can possibly be. He stands from the ground with aching knees and holds his hand out to her to take. She does, her entire body still shaking, and to see this woman who embodies strength be but a shell of herself as they slowly walk up the stairs, the wood creaking underneath their steps, is by far the worst thing he’s ever seen.

This is one of Emma’s worst nightmares coming to life.

Emma gets into bed first, not bothering to pull to covers down to get under them, and without even bothering to take his shoes off, he tentatively crawls into bed after her, aligning the front of his body with the back of hers and wrapping his left arm over the curve of her waist and his right under the pillow that’s supporting her head. He has no idea if Emma wants his comfort, and he fully experts her to reject him until she gently takes his hand and holds onto it, pulling it up to rest between her breasts so that he can feel the erratic beating of her heart that does not match up with the coolness of her skin.

They sit in silence for so long that he loses track of time, loses track of what he’s supposed to be saying and what he’s supposed to be doing. The only sounds he can focus on are the occasional sniffle from Emma, the ceiling fan rotating above him, and the sound of his own heart thumping so loudly that practically all of his thoughts have been forcefully removed from his mind. He can’t think. He can’t breathe. He can’t…all he can do is hold Emma and try to prepare himself for the fact that this is so far from over that it’s barely even begun.

Of all of the awful things that he knows that Neal has done now, he wonders just how that man could have ever let this woman and Henry go. They are just…they’re wonderful, and they bring him so much joy. He thought they brought Neal joy long ago, and he thought that they did now. Neal loves Henry. There’s somehow no doubt in his mind about that.

Neal loves his son.

So why did he do any of this?

Why, once he was released from captivity and able to live in freedom because his father sells weapons to Al-Qaeda and brokered a deal with terrorists, did Neal decide to work for his father? The father who he most likely hated enough to cut ties from and change his name decades ago. Why would helping a man aid in creating violence and destruction in the world be something that Neal wanted when Neal had been serving and protecting his country for good for a decade?

Why would he want that when the scars on his back are real?

Why wouldn’t he want to come home to his family?

Would he really have stayed in England for money and for the ability to start again with a new life where he wasn’t attached to two people?

And if so, why come back?

Killian still has so many questions swirling around in his mind, each one garnering another, and he wants answers to every single one of them. He wants answers, and he very much doubts he’ll ever get them.

Mostly, though, he wants answers for Emma. She’s lived her entire life never knowing why her birth parents adopted her. She lived for nearly eight years wondering what exactly happened to Neal. She can’t get answers to one, but she can to the other.

Hopefully.

Neal doesn’t have to own up to anything that there’s no proof of, but since it’s happening, he might as well. He’s not an evil man. Killian is convinced that he’s not, that there is good in his heart, and if it’ll help Emma move on and help Henry move on when he’s older and realizes everything that he’s about to go through.

“Why is all of this happening to us?” she whispers what seems like hours later, her voice so quiet that he almost believes that he’s fallen asleep and dreamed of her speaking. But then she twists a bit in the bed, presses herself further into his body and tucks her bare feet between his calves so that they’re nearly completely intertwined. It comforts him that she feels safe in his arms when she knows that he’s broken promises to her too.

Not all promises can be kept, but no one realizes that until the broken pieces are laid out in front of them with few, if any, ways to put them back together.

“I don’t know,” he whispers back, pressing his lips into the skin at her shoulder and burying his nose there so that he’s enveloped by her.

“I just don’t understand.” Her voice is cold, almost no emotion behind it, and he thinks that scares him more than the hysterical sobs earlier. Emma is not emotionless, even when she tries to be. “I’m no one. I’m a mom and a high school guidance counselor in Maine. I’m not someone who gets wrapped up in international arm trafficking or whose ex-husband is apparently a criminal who faked his fucking death to get away from me.”

“You are not no one,” he reassures her, speaking the words just below the shell of her ear. “You have never been no one, and I need you to understand that none of this is on you, okay?”

“It’s not on you either.”

“Love – ”

“It’s not,” she insists, her voice a little louder this time. “Killian, how long have you been killing yourself hiding this from me? Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Emma, you barely believed me tonight, and you don’t even know everything yet. What would it have been like if I’d come to you when I knew nothing and all I had were the wild theories in my mind? I have hurt you so much when you’ve trusted me to be the one to hold your heart, and I could not unnecessarily hurt you again. Sins can be forgiven when someone loves you, but that only goes so far.”

Emma twists around on the mattress, quietly turning herself until her nose brushes his, the tip of it cool again his skin, and until her hand rests on his cheek and his on her hip, their bodies still intertwined.

“There is nothing to be forgiven.”

He closes his eyes and clenches his teeth together, swallowing all of the words of protest that he wants to say. “You are too good for me.”

“I see the best in you,” she whispers though her voice sounds as sure as ever as her palm runs across his skin so that he opens his eyes. “I love you with my entire heart, even if I feel utterly broken right now. What do you always tell me? If it can be broken, it still works, right? And you cannot…you were simply trying to protect our family. That’s what you’re always doing to the point of you hurting yourself, and I don’t want that. I want you to trust me, to come to me, and we’ll work through things together. We don’t need to do it separately.”

The sincerity in her eyes doesn’t surprise him, but the lack of water does. They’re still red rimmed, puffy, and she looks much older than her years, but amidst all of that is a vibrant green that could bring light into the darkness and guide any sailor lost in the depths of the ocean home.

They did for him.

“I love you, my darling,” he sighs, pressing a bit closer so that his lips brush against hers. “Do you think you can go to sleep?”

“No.”

“I still have…there’s still more to talk about, love. I have things I haven’t told you yet. David and Detective Humbert want us to meet them at the station tomorrow. They want to bring you up to speed so that we can help them.”

“I know.” She nods her head up and down against the pillow before her lips press into his in the slowest, most languid kiss he’s felt in the entirety of his life. No part of it is hurried or passionate or desperate. It is a simple press of lips against lips, soft skin mixing with an untrimmed beard, and before it ends, he feels salt against his lips that he is not sure if it stemmed from Emma’s eyes or his own. “I can’t turn my mind off right now, but I don’t think I can handle anymore tonight. I simply want you to hold me for a little while.”

They can deal with everything in the morning light where the depths of darkness cannot reach them as easily as it can now.

 


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely think you guys are the best readers for sticking through this story with me with so much enthusiasm! Thank you!

“Mom?”

“Mom?”

“Mom?”

“Mom!” Henry yells, tugging on the hem of her t-shirt until she looks down at him and at the cowlick that’s working its way to ridiculous levels at the back of his head.

“Yeah, kid?”

“I called your name, like, five hundred times, and you didn’t hear me. Are you going to be like Grandma and not be able to hear sometimes?”

She shakes her head from side to side, trying to drown out all of her thoughts as she focuses all of her attention on Henry. She has to focus her attention on him. She simply has to. “No, I’m not going to be like Grandma. I can still hear you. I was just distracted.”

“By what?”

Well that’s a loaded question, but she is too tired and too confused to be able to even begin to start addressing it to an eight-year-old, especially when she’s about to spend her entire day doing just that with several people who she really hopes are older than eight. That would be something else if there were child federal agents.

Has she lost her mind?

Running on fumes is exactly what’s happening to her, and she knows that it’s not going to be much longer until she is no longer running at all.

“Grown up stuff,” she hums, knowing that it’s a cop out but not caring as she takes a sip of her coffee, surprised by the fact that it’s cold. Didn’t she just make this pot five minutes ago? Her cup should be warm. Has it been longer than that? How long has she been standing in the kitchen zoned out? Is she even really awake? “What do you need, Henry?”

“I want to call my dad.”

Her cup falls from her hands, fingers loosening around the handle until she hears the crash of glass against wooden floor and the feel of tepid coffee moving over her bare feet, the slightest of stings echoing throughout her skin. She watches it happen as if it’s in slow motion, and it’s not until she hears Henry’s yelp that she realizes she just dropped her glass coffee mug on her son, the glass shards hitting him.

“Don’t move,” she shouts, holding her hands in front of her as she watches Henry’s bottom lip quiver and tears gather in his eyes. Ah, fuck. “Just…don’t move.”

She takes a step away from the broken glass and scoops Henry up from underneath his armpits. He’s far too big for her to be picking up, but she still can. And she doesn’t want him to get more cuts on his feet when she can already see some. She is the worst mother in the world. How could she do this?

“I-it hurts,” he whimpers, wiping at his nose while she gets the small pieces of glass out of his skin, guilt settling heavy in her stomach even though she knows it was an accident. An accident. She has to keep telling herself that it’s an accident because it was. Things happen. Accidents happen. That’s all this is. He’s simply in a little shock.

“I’m so, so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was an accident. I’m sorry.”

“I know. It just hurts.”

“I know, I know,” she soothes, glad he hasn’t fallen into some kind of full on meltdown as she gets one last piece of glass away from his leg. None of the cuts are deep enough to need stitches or result in any lasting damage, but she absolutely cannot believe that she just did that. “There. They’re all gone, kid. Stick your feet in the sink so we can wash them. They’re kind of stinky.”

“And bloody.”

“That too,” she laughs, if only because Henry’s face has suddenly turned from a quivering mess into some kind of focused fascination on his blood.

Great. She’s got a kid obsessed with blood. Maybe that means he’ll be a doctor or something and not turn out like his…she can’t go there yet. If she fully accepts it more than she did last night – or really this morning – it makes it real. And if it’s real…she can’t handle that right now. Later, she’ll handle it all later.

She flips the handle at the base of the faucet, running her hand under it to make sure it’s cold water before placing Henry’s feet in the basin and washing them off, thankful that she managed to do the dishes at some point yesterday. She barely even remembers anything about yesterday right now.

“So can I call my dad?” Henry asks again, and she feels her entire body go cold, any warmth she had left completely evaporating.

“Why do you want to call your dad?”

“I had a dream last night that there were dinosaurs where he lived, and I wanted to ask him if some of them escaped from the Smithsonian. Like in that movie.”

This child is the light of her life. He and Ada are just… _everything_.

And he loves his dad…he loves Neal so much that she can feel her intestines twisting and breaking down. She can feel the heaviness in her heart and all her limbs, and it is taking every ounce of strength that has settled itself deep in her bones over the years for her to keep from breaking down right here. She thought that she was done crying over Neal, that he couldn’t keep hurting her, whether he meant to or not, but here he is continuously surprising her.

Yesterday he got angry that Henry had Killian, that she was with Killian, and she didn’t understand it. She especially doesn’t understand it now when she knows that he apparently never gave two shits about them in the past.

Because he abandoned them.

He could have come home, and he didn’t.

Did he ever really love her? Was any of her marriage real? Why would he have married her if it wasn’t?

Does he love Henry now? God, she hopes that he loves Henry now. No matter what he’s done she needs some part of him to love Henry even if he does not deserve Henry. He doesn’t…she has no idea how to feel about anything. She can’t decide between curling into a ball on the couch and hiding away from the world for awhile or punching Neal in the face and demanding answers that she doesn’t think he’ll ever give her.

How does she even go about this?

She thought her ex-husband coming back from the dead would be the most complicated thing to happen to her.

It’s not.

Her ex-husband being some kind of criminal mastermind who is most likely going to jail is the most complicated thing to ever happen to her because she has to explain that to a kid who looks up to Neal as the hero that they always told him Neal was.

Even heroes fall.

Sometimes heroes aren’t heroes after all. Sometimes they wear the costume, but behind the mask are dark eyes full of deceit and hatred but that are seen as bright and cheerful and worthy of trust without any question.

She should have asked more questions. She should have asked better ones.

And maybe her kryptonite for her superpower with lies fails a little when she’s trusting someone she loves.

How could she have been so stupid? How could she have known?

“Emma, what the bloody hell is happening here?”

“You’re not supposed to use that word.”

“Aye, lad,” Killian confirms as she watches him step further into the kitchen with Ada in his arms, their daughter grabbing at his ears as he tentatively steps toward the sink, his eyes wide and full of concern. “I know. I’m sorry. What seems to have happened that you’ve got your feet in the sink?”

“Momma dropped her coffee, and the glass got stuck in my feet.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Henry sighs, sticking his feet in the air and splattering water over the countertop, “it stings a little. Do we have any cool band-aids? Am I going to get a scar?”

“Yes to the band-aids, no to the scar.” Killian steps over the shattered cup and toward her, his hand ghosting over her arm until he’s looking into her eyes, pupils moving all over her face. “You have cuts on your feet, love. I’m going to…I’ll take care of Henry if you take Ada and stop moving around in here without shoes on.”

“I’m fine.”

His lips press together and curl downward, but he doesn’t say anything, simply nodding his head up and down and handing Ada to her. “Alright, lad, do you want Spiderman or Ninja Turtles? I know both are your favorite.”

She listens to the rest of their conversation as she takes Ada and sits down at the kitchen table, cringing a little with each step she takes. Shit, she must have a piece of glass in the sole of her foot.

“Mama.”

“Hi, sweetheart, hi,” she hums, placing Ada on the table and holding onto her leg, tapping her fingers against her leg. She turns one in less than a month, and Emma still can’t believe it. “Can you give me just a few moments to deal with this? I know you can’t, but a girl can hope.”

“Mama,” she repeats, clapping her hand down on Emma’s while she picks up her foot and looks at the glass ledged between her toes.

“One minute, Ada bug.” Tugging at the glass, she pulls it out, having to carefully maneuver when it snags on skin, a red gush of flood following it. “Shit.”

“You’re not supposed to say that word either,” Henry so helpfully adds.

“Pay attention to your father,” she mumbles back, having to bite her tongue to keep from cursing out her eight-year-old.

Once she gets the glass out and sees that there are no other pieces lodged in her skin, she stands and grabs Ada, picking her up and making her way to clean her own wound and wrap gauze around the balls of her feet and her toes. This entire morning is a bit of a mess, a bit of a disaster really (a whole ass disaster if she’s honest with herself), but this will most likely be the calmest part of her entire day. She’s gotten no sleep, her mind never turning off even when she and Killian laid in silence for hours this morning. At one point she had needed to turn her brain off, to get out of her own head, and she’d desperately kissed him until he made her forget, thrusting in and out of her and stealing her breath with the way his lips moved across her skin. And she did forget for at least a little while as pleasure curled between her thighs and heat spread across every inch of her flesh. It was exhilarating, intoxicating, and for those few minutes, she didn’t have to think about the brokenness in her heart over everything that she’d learned about Neal.

And everything she’s going to learn today.

She and Henry eventually get all cleaned up, as well as the broken glass and spilled coffee being removed from the floor, and after Killian makes Henry some scrambled eggs and toast and Emma forces Ada to eat some sweet potatoes, they move the kids to the living room and wait for Ruby to show up so that she and Killian can go down to the station. Her leg never stops moving, bouncing up and down off of the bandaged balls of her feet, and she props Ada on her knee because Emma’s nerves might as well work to make someone happy. And Ada definitely still gets the giggles from being bounced up and down.

What she would give for the innocence of a child.

“Hello, Jones clan,” Ruby announces when she walks in the house, easily opening the door since Killian left it unlocked. “Auntie Ruby is here, and I can guarantee my favorite munchkins are going to have more fun with me than with their parents.”

“Ruby,” Henry shouts, getting up from the couch and running toward her, holding his hand up so that they can do whatever kind of secret high five they’ve got going on this week. She doesn’t know how in the world that they come up with it in the five minutes that Ruby sees Henry every day when he comes by after school. “What are we going to do? Did you bring your paints? Can we go to your house so I can paint on the wall?”

“I like your enthusiasm, but we are staying here today. But I have been told by a very reliable source that ice cream is in your future today.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“Hey, Rubes,” she greets, getting up from the couch and leaving Ada on the cushions so that she can pull Ruby in for a hug. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“Well, I didn’t have a date last night, so you guys got lucky while I did not.” She chuckles before pulling back, smiling at Ruby. “You look like crap, Emma. What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you later, okay?”

She raises a brow. “Tomorrow?”

“Soon.”

“We need to go, Swan,” Killian tells her as she watches him lean down to kiss Ada’s cheek, murmuring something that she can’t hear before he walks over to where she’s standing and rests his hand on her lower back. “Thanks for watching them, Ruby.”

“Like I said, I’d do anything for Emma. And you two look terrible, so I hope this is some kind of spa retreat you’re going on and lying about.”

She wishes.

It’s only a fifteen minute drive to the precinct, but her leg stays bouncing the entire time. She doesn’t know how Killian is calm enough to drive, but he effortlessly moves them through traffic, taking the detours around the downtown farmer’s markets until they’re pulling into a parking garage that is as gray and dreary as her mood.

Hell, it might even be brighter than her mood.

When Killian turns the engine off, all of the sounds of the car muting, she closes her eyes and inhales, her stomach attempting to settle itself. Killian doesn’t say anything, doesn’t encourage her to speak, but she feels the heavy, solid weight of his hand on her thigh through her leggingsand it causes a sob to catch in her throat. But she won’t let that one pass through her lips. Not now.

She has to be stronger than that.

In silence she opens her eyes and reaches for the handle on the door, pulling it and pushing it open after she unbuckles her seatbelt. She knows that Killian is following behind her, can feel his presence, but she takes it upon herself to walk down the stairwell with her eyes never leaving the ground until she crosses the bridge over into the building.

The moment she sees David when they walk into the precinct, her steps tick up a pace until she’s got her arms wrapped around his middle and his hand cradling the back of her head, pulling it closer to rest on his shoulder. He’s warm and smells like the spice of his cologne that he’s been wearing since she met him when she was fifteen. David has never liked change, and she finds an odd amount of comfort in that today.

“You okay?” he whispers into her ear, pressing his forearm a little harder against her back.

“No,” she admits honestly. There is no part of her that is okay, and there’s no point in lying to David. He knows more about her life than even she does right now, and he’s probably about to watch her have her heart ripped out of her chest. “I’m not.”

“You will be,” he promises, patting her head.

She nods her head and pulls back, taking a deep breath and straightening her back before fixing her ponytail, tightening it so that it rises on her head. “So where do we go? Who am I meeting?”

“Ah, that would be me,” a man with an Irish accent greets, holding his hand up with a shy smile on his face. He’s more handsome than she thought he would be, not that she really thought too much about it. She figured she’d be meeting with a man in his sixties with graying hair, not someone who can’t be older than forty with curly brown hair and a beard that kind of reminds her of Killian’s. “Agent Graham Humbert.”

“Emma Swan,” she says as she takes his hand. “And this is – ”

“We’ve met,” Killian grits as she turns to the side to look at him and the clench in his jaw. “Hello, Agent Humbert.”

“Hello, Mr. Jones.” Graham nods at him before looking back at David. “Do you two want any coffee or water before I take you into the conference room? We’ll be in there for awhile.”

“Coffee. All of the coffee that you have.”

“I’ll get it,” David offers, pressing his lips together before walking off to where she knows is their break down.

Agent Humbert tells them to follow them to the elevators, and they move up four floors before getting off and wandering down hallways she’s never been in before. Granted, she doesn’t spend too much time here, only coming when she’s getting lunch with David or dropping something off, and instead of focusing on how nervous she is, how her legs feel a little wobbly, she focuses on the sleek gray walls with few decorations, only framed certifications and one picture of the lighthouse resting just outside a conference room.

“So you’re a high school guidance counselor?” Agent Humbert asks as he holds open the door to the room, all of the blinds on the windows closed to the point where she’s starting to feel claustrophobic.

“I am.”

“My mum is an English teacher at a high school back home. I had her during my last year, and she mortified me nearly every single day.”

She laughs at that, but says nothing else, sitting down in an empty chair and scooting into the long table.

“Our son’s teacher is his aunt,” Killian fills in for her, pushing her chair in the rest of the way before he takes his own seat next to her. “I’m sure it’s not quite the same as having your mum be your teacher when you’re eighteen, but I know he gets frustrated over her assigning him homework.”

“This is David’s wife, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She watches as Agent Humbert takes his seat across from the two of them, and it’s only then that she notices the boxes of files he has stacked behind him. For some reason, out of everything that is making her nervous and angry and terrified out of her mind, it’s those that really get to her. This is real. This is happening. This is…this is really happening.

Holy shit.

Killian’s hand finds hers underneath the table, and even though her hand feels a little lax, Killian twines their fingers together and squeezes before running his thumb back and forth over her knuckles. It’s warm and soothing and altogether comforting, but she cannot focus on anything but the blind that is slightly bent behind Detective Humbert’s head.

She wants to go back to yesterday morning where Ada and Henry were having simultaneous meltdowns. That was so much better than this.

“Miss Swan – ”

“Emma,” she corrects, “please call me Emma.”

He smiles. “You may call me Graham as well. We may as well get to know each other.”

“Don’t you already know everything there is to know about me?”

Killian’s thumb taps against her, and her eyes dart to the side to look at him. He’s smiling the slightest bit, and surprisingly that helps calm the rolls of nausea making their way through her.

Graham laughs a bit too, but she can tell that he feels awkward around the two of them. It makes sense. She kind of just called him out on the fact that the government has been spying on their family.

Again, holy shit.

“No, no I don’t,” he answers with a soft smile as he twists around and grabs a tablet off the top of the box. “I assume Mr. Jones told you most of what’s going on, including that we’ve been surveying your ex-husband as a part of protocol for any criminal of war as they readjust to life as a regular member of society.”

“He did.”

The door opens behind them, and she twists her head around to see David walking into the room with a tray of coffee all poured into to-go containers. He hands her the drink first, and she immediately takes a sip, needing the caffeine. Bless David Nolan for knowing how she takes her coffee so that it isn’t some sludge.

“And you know that we’ve found suspicious activity, yeah?”

“Do I know that Neal is a fucking liar, yeah? Yeah, I know that.”

“Emma,” David scolds, sitting down next to Graham. “Detective Humbert is just doing his job.”

“My life is falling apart, David, so excuse me if I’m not perfectly polite in every way. I’m not a freaking Disney character.”

Her eyes squeeze close at the same time that Killian’s hand squeezes hers. She doesn’t know what she’s going to do if he lets go.

“It’s okay,” Graham soothes, smiling at her before looking down at something on the tablet. “I can’t understand what you’re going through, but I understand that there are emotions behind it. I’m fully prepared to get yelled at many times today. Your partner did the same yesterday. I don’t think I’ve ever heard such creative cursing.”

She has to look at Killian then, has to look at the dark circles under his eyes and the lines covering his face that seem a little more prominent than usual. For a few minutes last night she took the time to check on how he was doing, to make sure that he was okay, because she knows just how much he’s been beating himself up over all of this. She knows. For weeks she thought it was something else, she thought that he was working on a proposal or something. How could she have continuously been so blind to things that were happening under her nose? A part of her understands not knowing that Neal had other loyalties, but another part tells her that she should have known. She knows him better than anyone does, at least she thought she did, and she should have known something was up.

With Killian…she has no reasoning or excuses. There is no plausible reason for her to have not realized that he was struggling with something far bigger than she ever could have imagined.

She was so damn stupid for thinking that he was okay.

She was so damn selfish for spending all of that time thinking that he didn’t want to marry her because he thought that she was too much and not enough all at once when Killian has never made her feel anything but just right.

Last night he walked into the home that they share with secrets that he knew would break her down, and he still managed to do that, to say the words, to try to calmly explain things to her when she was losing her mind. She gulps and blinks for a moment to calm herself before moving their hands from her thigh and bring them to her mouth so that she can brush her lips against his wrist, a silent thank you for taking all of this on.

From now on, though, they have to talk about things. They are not carrying these burdens alone.

“Just…can you go ahead and talk to me about everything? You don’t have to beat around the bush. I can handle it.”

Graham nods before reaching behind him and handing David a file of paper and returning to his tablet. “So we had a protocol to follow Sergeant Cassidy because he fit the profile for someone who had been tortured and brainwashed, possibly for terroristic threats. He was so well adjusted when he returned home, all of his psychological profiles being passed with flying colors, and all of his scars seemed to be aged and healed, not fresh ones. None of that really means anything, but we have discovered a pattern in the past for prisoners of war that make things like that be a warning sign.”

“For terrorism?”

“Yes, but we don’t think Sergeant Cassidy is carrying out some kind of terroristic plot to destroy the government or kill our leaders. But that is part of the reason therapy was strongly encouraged, especially by a therapist that the government recommended, but as soon as Neal was finished with his mandated sessions, he stopped going altogether.”

“When was that?”

“December.”

She thought he went every week. He’s…he hasn’t been going in four months.

“So where did he go?”

“We’re not sure entirely. Killian said that several times he saw Neal getting into a car or not going to his appointments or his support groups. That was a bloody risky move, by the way.”

“Keep going,” Killian demands, his voice gruff as he’s obviously not in the mood to talk about anything that he did to help this. Neal is his friend too, and it all stems back to her not even knowing how in the world he had the strength to keep himself together.

“What this all basically boils down to,” Graham continues while David flips a page in his folder, writing down notes, “is that we’re after Robert Gold, Sergeant Cassidy’s father. I’ve only been involved recently since this now involves the United States, so I don’t have the full extent of experience like some of my colleagues overseas.”

“Then why aren’t they talking to us?”

“Because the things they know they cannot tell you, and I tend to get assigned to explaining things to family and questioning them for international affairs since the bureau thinks that my dual citizenship makes me seem worldly or something.”

That sounds like a load of crap, but Killian gets things like that happening to him all of the time because he used to live in England.

“Emma,” David sighs, finally speaking, “when you and Neal were dating, what did he tell you about his father?”

She turns to David, happy to be talking to a familiar face, happy to be talking to her brother. She needs him as much as she needs Killian right now, and a part of her can’t believe he’s allowed to be in this room. None of this makes any sense, but she’s kind of given up on the hope that things will. Insanity is her new normal.

“That he was dead, that his mom was dead,” she explains, taking a sip of her coffee. “He grew up as an orphan, and I believed him because I mostly did too, you know? I felt like that made him understand me in a way that a lot of people can’t, so I had absolutely no idea that his dad was alive. I can’t give you any information about that because I know nothing about it. But…Robert Gold, that’s his name? And he’s an engineer?”

“His name is Robert Gold, yes. He’s sixty years old, from London, and he owns Aurum Engineering. He’s been suspected of illegal arms manufacturing and trafficking for a little over two decades, but the trails are always covered expertly. It’s…there were no flaws until Neal Gold was hired as a project manager in the company. Paper trails started to appear so that we could track where shipments of weapons were being delivered, and last October, they started showing up in Maine. It took awhile for the connection to be made, as I was unaware of the case happening in England, but once it was, it was pretty easy to tie together.”

“I get…” she sighs, throwing her head back and sinking a little further into her chair so that her neck rests against the cushions of it. “I get that Neal’s dad is apparently alive, which is batshit crazy, and that the two of them are apparently making money off of selling weapons to criminals, which is also batshit crazy, but I need someone to explain to me how in the world Neal went from being deployed and captured by Al-Qaeda to living with his dad in London to being rescued and moved home. None of that makes any fucking sense.”

She reluctantly releases Killian’s hand and pushes back from her chair, standing to her feet and pacing back and forth over the gray carpet. She can’t look at any of the people in this room anymore. She can’t even look at Killian because right now she feels like looking at him will only break her down instead of building her up. This is so damn much to take in, and even though she hasn’t slept in over twenty-four hours, she cannot sit down to listen to this. She needs to know how and why Neal left her, and even though she knows that Graham can’t really give her those answers, she wants them.

She _needs_  them.

“The people Robert Gold sells his weapons to, his main source of income comes from criminal and terrorist organizations, including the one that captured Sergeant Cassidy. We don’t know for sure, especially because this isn’t our main focus, but we believe that Sergeant Cassidy most likely told his captors who his father was in some desperate attempt to escape. A man who was a prisoner at the same time as him, August Booth, told us that one day they were in the cell together and the next that Sergeant Cassidy was gone. He’d assumed that Sergeant Cassidy was dead, but then he showed back up years later looking as healthy as he did when they were captured.”

“Neal,” she mumbles under her breath, watching the white of her sneakers move against the ugly gray carpet. “Call him Neal instead of Sergeant Cassidy. You’re ripping apart our lives. You can call us by our first names.”

“Neal then,” Graham agrees. “We’re assuming that his father paid for his release, and that’s why Neal started living in England under his birth name. We were kind of hoping you could help tell us why he’d stage being captured again only to be rescued so he could come home.”

Her pacing stops, and she digs her heels into the carpet, wishing that she could burrow a hole in the floor and escape all of this. Her legs feel heavy enough. She should be able to fall right through the floor, but realistically she knows that she cannot. When she looks up, David is staring at her, his eyes widened, and she has to look away and back to the floor. She can handle this if she’s looking at the floor and focusing on the pulls in the carpet.

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly, the words steadier than she thought they would be even though she can hear the tremble in her own voice. “I don’t fucking know, okay? I don’t know anything. All I knew was that my husband died, and I was left alone with our baby. It took me years to even come close to being okay with that, to moving on, and even with that, I still had all of this lingering guilt, you know? I felt like I wasn’t allowed to be happy again. And then I was. I had this great life, and then Neal shows up alive which was…wonderful. But apparently, he’s a lying jackass who left me and our son, but no, no I don’t know why he would fake another capture and rescue and come back into our lives just to do all of this. I can give you nothing.”

Her lungs gasp for air when she’s finished talking, and as her chest keeps heaving, she settles back down in her chair, folding her arms over each other and resting her face against her forearms on the table. A hand finds her back, rubbing in circles, and she refuses to look up as she keeps speaking.

“I don’t know,” she continues. “I don’t know anything. I don’t know anything about Neal leaving me, abandoning me. I don’t know anything about him coming back because he sure as hell didn’t come back for me. And if he did, he obviously didn’t do any research on me because he would have seen that I had a baby with another man, which he seemed to be very surprised at. But who knows? That could have been a lie too.” She groans, leaning back in her chair and running her hands through her hair as she stares Graham down. “I was an idiot and didn’t see any of the signs, any of the clues. Why would I ever suspect anything? To me, Neal is my sometimes asshole ex who I thought was my friend. I didn’t see the things Killian or David saw. I didn’t see any of it. But my question is, out of everything since you apparently don’t know anything, is why the hell haven’t you arrested him yet? You say you have all of this evidence, but he’s still living in Washington DC working for the fucking government, and you guys haven’t done a damn thing about it.”

Graham simply nods his head, his lips staying in a firm line. He really must be used to upset people yelling at him.

“We don’t want to alert his father to anything since, really, we don’t care about Neal. We mostly care about Mr. Gold. Neal will undoubtedly be arrested and go to prison, but we’d be willing to work with him to give us information on his father. His jail sentence would be at a minimum for his crimes, and one day he could reenter society, be a part of your family again.”

“Like hell he will,” Killian growls, slamming his hand down on the table. “You barely said any of this yesterday. You’re telling me that he has lied to the federal government, to all of us, and has helped actual terrorists, and you say as long as he helps you get dear old dad in jail, he can be free in a few years with a pat on the back and a free invitation to come back into my son’s life.”

“It’s how the law works.”

“It’s fucking bullshit.”

“Killian – ”

“No, Swan,” he stops, looking down at her while his upper lips snarls, white teeth showing. “I have killed myself over this, over trying to protect our family, and now I’m told that they only want Neal’s dad.”

“We discussed that yesterday. You knew that.”

“I thought you wanted them both. That’s the impression that I was under. I’m being dragged through the mud, my girlfriend is being dragged through the mud, and it’s for what? So we can essentially help Neal go free on a shortened sentence?”

“Isn’t that what you’d want? So you can all be a family again one day?”

Killian cackles, actually cackles, and she wonders if she sounded as crazy, as mad, as she did earlier. She’s never heard him like this, never heard his laugh as twisted as this, and her skin breaks out in gooseflesh. This is all too much, and she’s still so damn confused about everything.

“The man is a criminal who left his son and his wife and lied about all of it. He doesn’t deserve any part of them. He doesn’t deserve to be let off for his crimes simply because his father is the mastermind behind it all. He doesn’t – I don’t want him back in my life, in my son’s life, and I’m sure that Emma doesn’t either.”

Killian looks over at her, his eyes widened with rage, and she nods her head in agreement. “For all of mankind or whatever, I would definitely like an arms manufacturer who sells weapons to terrorists and criminals to be arrested and charged and for all of that to stop. For me personally, I think if Neal was a part of this, he deserves his due too. It breaks my heart for Henry, for me, and I don’t want our son around someone who could cause him harm, even if I don’t think that Neal would do anything to hurt Henry. But Neal works for the State Department dealing with arms control. Obviously he’s not innocent. He could be hurting a hell of a lot of people, and you’re going to let him go…just like that.”

“We thought this was what the two of you would want for your son.”

“Have you, Detective Humbert, ever been betrayed by the person you loved most in the world? You ever had everything taken away from you and had your world altered forever? Had everything you thought you knew ended up being a lie? No? You haven’t? I didn’t think so. But I have. That happened to me, and there’s not going to be some tearful, heartfelt family moment where I forgive him.”

“He’ll do his time,” Graham sighs as she tries to catch her breath after her rant, but it doesn’t bring her any comfort.

Nothing for the rest of the day does.

She and Killian spend the next five hours talking to Graham and David. It’s mostly Graham, but David pipes in every now and then. She thinks that maybe Graham expects her to feel better talking everything through, making it all be coherent, but little by little she can tell that she’s only really there because they need more information from her. But she doesn’t know. She can’t answer any of their questions about Neal because she doesn’t know any of the answers.

She doesn’t know anything. Not anymore.

No part of her life makes sense.

She can’t…this is really happening. How the hell is she going to tell Henry? Does she really even have to?

Every part of her body is numb, all of the sensations dulled as a low buzz rings in her ears, and even though she knows they leave the building, that she hugs David and shakes Detective Humbert’s hand, she doesn’t really recall. All she knows is that right now she’s sitting with Killian in the parking lot of a Whole Foods and staring at people walking in and out of the building because she told him that she wasn’t ready to go home yet.

The warmth of his right hand covers her left, their fingers intertwined, and she feels the rough pad of his thumb moving over her knuckles once more. It’s soothing like earlier, and it makes her stomach twist a little less inside as she messes with the pendant around her neck. Laughter bubbles within her, working its way up her throat and past her lips, and the sound almost seems unrecognizable as it makes its way through the air and settles between she and Killian. His thumb stops moving against hers for a brief moment before starting up again all while her chest heaves in laughter.

She’s lost her mind.

“Would you care to enlighten me to what’s happening in that mind of yours? I’m afraid I missed the joke.”

“I – I…it’s,” she sniffles, leaning her head back against the headrest while her eyes squeeze closed. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Why do you think that?”

She twists her head to the side to look at Killian and his soft smile and quirked brow. She loves him so damn much and doesn’t understand how in the world she got lucky enough to have such a partner in life when she wasn’t ever supposed to have such good things in her life. Not like Killian and her kids and her family. Not like this.

“Can I – can I share something ridiculous with you?”

He nods his head, his lips still curved into a smile even though she can see how stressed he is from the heaviness of his eyes. “You can share anything with me.”

God. It’s just not fair sometimes. He is such a damn good man.

“This whole time, these weeks that you’ve been secretive, I…this is dumb, okay? And literally the last thing I should be focusing on, but this whole time I thought you were being weird about things because you were going to propose. Like, how self-centered am I for not noticing that you were going through so much and for thinking that it was all about me? How many times did I blatantly ignore your suffering and make it about us getting married when that doesn’t even matter right now?”

Killian’s face doesn’t change, his smile never faltering, but he does bring their hands to his mouth and brush his lips across her knuckles while his eyes close, unfairly long lashes landing against his cheek. “Emma, my love, I have loved several women in my life, but I have never loved anyone in the way that I love you. You are – you are my everything,” he promises, opening his eyes and reaching his free hand over to her to rest his thumb against her cheek while her stomach twists inside. But in a good way this time. “I know that’s what you’ve been thinking, and darling, I’m glad for it. You deserved to be thinking happy things, hopeful things, instead of being in the pits of despair like I was. You’re not selfish. You’re human, and you were happy. That’s what I was trying to do…keep you happy.”

“I want you to be happy too.”

“Aye, and I am. I mean, not necessarily today but overall. I’ve got this great life. I have all of these people who love me, and I have these two kids who make my life worth living even when they’re being pains in my ass. And I have you, the woman who makes me laugh and the woman who I very much intend on marrying once our lives aren’t quite so hectic.”

“Is that every going to happen?”

“I have faith that it will, yeah,” he nods before leaning in to softly brush his lips over hers, nothing but the barest of touches that still means the absolute world to her. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known, and even though I have trouble accepting this for myself, I want you to know that everything you feel is valid, love. You were in the dark about a lot of things, but that’s not going to happen anymore. We’ve been through too much not to be open with each other.”

She nods her head in response, resting her forehead to Killian’s as his nose bumps hers. “I hate him for making me learn to love him again only for him to do this to us.”

“Me too.”

For the next hour she and Killian sit in that parking lot doing little more than exchanging a few words every so often, some of them deep, others playful, most of them solemn, but eventually she agrees that she’s ready to go home and hug their children and maybe not think about all of the heaviness that’s surrounding them. All she wants is to eat some junk food and sit with her family as they watch a movie in the darkness of the living room. She wants that comfort, and the thought of it makes her feel infinitely better as Killian pulls into the driveway and puts the car in park, squeezing her hand one more time before she steps out.

“Mom,” Henry squeals when she walks in the door, running up to her and pointing behind him, “look, my dad’s here.”

The words don’t register before the sight of him standing in the living room with Ada on his hip does, and suddenly she can focus on nothing but his arm wrapped around her daughter’s waist.

“Hey, Ems,” Neal smiles.

And her stomach drops.


	20. Chapter Twenty

“Hey, Ems,” Neal smiles, looking for all the world like he belongs in this house while suddenly the place where she once felt safest no longer feels secure. Her heartbeat has picked up by a solid twenty seven more beats per minute, and her legs seem like flimsy toothpicks beneath her as she places her hand against Henry’s shoulder, the warmth of Killian’s hand on her back the only thing that seems not to be freezing her out.

She’s dreaming. She has to be dreaming. There’s no other explanation for any of this. She’s going to wake up in thirty seconds and Killian’s arms are going to be wrapped around her and the man who abandoned her isn’t going to be holding her daughter in the way that he never held his son.

Vomit makes its way up her throat, but she swallows it down and closes her eyes as she attempts to take one deep breath after another. The tension is practically rolling off of Killian, but he’s the ones who brushes by her first, quickly heading into the living room and pulling Neal into a hug only to come out with Ada held securely in his arms.

Good.

Okay, good.

That makes her breathe a little more easily, and when Killian nods at her, a soft smile on his face, she takes that as her cue to try to act as naturally as she can. It’s difficult figuring out what that is, especially since even if she didn’t know everything she knew, she would still be pissed at Neal and at their conversation from yesterday. Every bit of that was unacceptable, but she can’t knock the teeth out of his mouth with Henry in here.

She really wants to knock the teeth out of his mouth and possibly break a bone or two.

But she can’t. She can’t do any of that, and it’s so damn unfair. This man has made her love him time and time again, even if it has been in different ways, and then ripped her entire life out from underneath her. All she wants is to scream and yell and work out every bit of anger and resentment, but none of that is possible.

This man is her son’s father, and even if he is a criminal and an undeniable asshole, she cannot degrade him in front of Henry. Not yet. They’re going to have to have that conversation, but no part of her is ready for it.

And she imagines she can’t be ready until someone arrests her ex-husband.

What the fuck is her life?

“You look like a ghost,” Ruby laughs, and Emma blinks in response several times until her vision clears of the blurry tears and Ruby comes into view. She’d forgotten that Ruby was here. How did she forget that? Why didn’t Ruby text her that Neal was here? “Of course, I would too if my ex-husband showed up in my house,” she whispers in Emma’s ear, making her laugh even if she doesn’t know why.

“When did he get here?”

“About five minutes ago.”

She nods, swallowing her gulp again. “Thanks for watching the kids, Rubes. Were they good?”

“They were great. We got ice cream, like I promised, and then we did stop by my house to pick up some paints. They’ve both got a few pieces drying out on the back deck, so make sure to look out there and get them.”

“What’d you paint for me, kid?” she asks Henry, her voice cracking as she tries to smile at him.

“Dinosaurs. Ruby looked them up for me online and drew them for me before I painted them.”

“Well that’s nice of her. Why don’t you thank her before she leaves, okay? I’m going to go say hi to your dad.”

Henry nods before he starts chatting Ruby up like she hasn’t been with her all day. It makes her legitimately smile when she’s having a difficult time keeping control of any of her limbs, but she focuses on the way that Henry is currently happy and Ada is babbling without stopping to Killian as he sits with her on the couch all the while she steps closer to Neal and pretends that he doesn’t make her feel like she’s covered in a layer of un-washable grime.

Unlike Killian, she doesn’t have the wherewithal to give him a hug, so she steps in front of him and straightens her shoulders all the while he smiles down at her. She’s never found his smile creepy until this exact moment. Condescending, sure. Creepy, not at all.

“What are you doing here, Neal?”

“What? A man can’t come and surprise his son?”

“Not without talking about it to me first.”

Neal’s jaw ticks. “He’s my son. I can see him when I want to.”

“That’s not how parenting works when you don’t live in the same house, and you know it. I’m not asking for the world. I’m asking for you to give me a heads up before you show up at my house.”

“Thought you’d be happy to see me.”

Emma laughs, something dark and sadistic, and she has to reign herself in. She will not let Henry see everything right now. At least he’s still talking to Ruby. “Yeah,” she lies, forcing another smile onto her face, “I think you showing up here is the highlight of my day. How is it that you couldn’t make it up here on Friday like you were supposed to and yet you’re here today?”

“Change of plans.”

She clicks her tongue and crosses her arms over her chest before sitting down on the arm of the couch, all of the remaining strength in her body leaving her as the lack of sleep and stress catches up to her. “Well, I’m sure Henry is excited to see you. I’ll order some pizza for dinner, and you guys can watch a movie or something after he finishes his book report.”

God, she doesn’t want to deal with having to do a book report even if it’s for a third grade class.

Life goes on even when hers is falling apart, it seems.

“Dad,” Henry says, coming to stand between them as he bounces up and down on his toes, “I have to show you my room. I got new books. Come on.”

Henry tugs at Neal’s shirt, and Neal smiles before following him up the stairs, his footsteps leaving an imprint on each stair. She doesn’t really want him alone with Henry, but honestly, it’s a relief for the both of them to be out of the room so that she can breathe. Why can she still not breathe?

Leaning down, she props her head between her legs and places her hands on her neck to try to squeeze out the tension that’s remaining there. In muted tones she hears Ruby saying goodbye, her laugh the loudest part about it as she talks to Ada and Killian, and vaguely she realizes that Ruby is saying goodbye to her too. It’s difficult to get her voice to sound normal, to think straight as she hugs Ruby goodbye and promises that she’ll explain everything at work tomorrow.

Except she knows that she’s not going to be at work tomorrow. There’s no way.

As soon as the door clicks behind Ruby, everything becomes a little louder, Ada’s babbling clearer, and she walks into Killian’s side before he even gets the chance to lift his arm. She’s always been able to stand on her own, but sometimes she needs the support. Right now is one of those times. Killian lifts his arm out from between them and wraps it around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him so that she can feel all of his warmth as his lips press against her forehead. She nearly sobs at the feeling.

“It’s okay, love.”

“It’s n-not. How is he here? Why is he here? What are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. I’ll…I think that I’ll text David and let him know that he’s here, and he’ll talk to Graham. They might – Emma, they might not be ready to bring him in yet, and if that’s the case, I need you to act like nothing is wrong. If Neal gets a whiff of anything, if he knows that someone is on to him, I’m sure he has the resources to run.”

“Would he do that?”

“He’s done it before.”

She nods her head against his chest before pulling back and looking directly at Ada. It’s kind of like looking in a mirror, but right now her eyes show more blue than green, and her eyelashes fall darkly against her cheeks like Killian.

“Hey, bug,” she sighs, taking her in her arms and holding her. Her limbs are still shaking, nerves and tiredness winning over determination, but she knows that she has to push through this.

Nothing has ever completely knocked her out before. She can do this. She has to.

The entire night is this odd blur of confusion and anxiety and tenseness that can’t be fixed. Neal is acting like everything is normal, like he didn’t just show up at their house, like he isn’t a liar, like he didn’t try to cut Killian out of Henry’s life. She still doesn’t understand any of that. The man left her, left Henry, and yet he came back. Why in the world did he come back when he obviously wanted nothing to do with them? Why does he want something to do with them now, and what is his issue with Killian? If he didn’t care enough to come home, why would he care about Killian’s role in Henry’s life?

The only thing she can think of is jealousy, and that seems like the worst excuse in the world. He didn’t want her or want to be with her, and yet he’s acting like he has some right to the life they used to share.

Neal may not have died, but their old life is dead and buried in the ground far more than six feet under.

Instead of putting Ada to bed in her room, she lets her fall asleep on her chest, the small puffs of air more reassuring than anything, and throughout the night she never takes her eyes off of Henry to make sure that he’s okay. She’s sure that he’s safe, that they’re all safe in here, but her life has been so unpredictable that she can’t help the worry that is continuing to fester in the pit of her stomach as she waits to see just how much longer she’s going to have to live with Neal being back in her house.

When all of this is over, she wants to move. She wants to be away from this place. It has been her home, the place where she’s felt the most secure and the place where she conceived her daughter, but it’s been tainted by everything that’s happened over the past nine months.

Ada turns one in two weeks, and this is not a year that she wants to remember even though it will be inked like a tattoo on her brain for the rest of her life. Hopefully the bright spots will blur away the darkness.

It simply has to.

Neal doesn’t make any odd moves, doesn’t say anything else that is horrifically wrong, and from the outside looking in, he looks like a father who loves his son and loves spending time with his family. For all of the world, and most of the western world does know who they are if they watched the news at some point last year, they are some kind of perfect family who is making the best of a complicated situation. That’s what Neal put on in his interview, what he made everyone including her believe even if she’s never been under the impression of anyone being perfect, and now she wonders what parts of her life are still true.

Killian is true. He may have withheld things from her, and they may have their issues, but he’s real. And he’s not going to abandon her. Of that she is completely and totally sure.

Her children are true, her brother, her mom. She needs to call her mom and tell her that she loves her and thank her for helping to give Emma so many good parts of her life. No part of her would be the same with Ruth having adopted her, and even if it’s a shitstorm right now, it’s still good.

She has to have hope that it’s going to get better too.

“Alright, time to go to bed,” Killian yawns when the Lego Movie ends, their thousandth viewing of it finally over.

Henry groans and throws his head back against the couch. “Seriously?”

“Aye, you’ve got school in the morning, and I imagine that Mary Margaret won’t be too happy if you’re sleeping through one of her lessons.”

“I’ve done that before.”

Killian laughs at the same time that she does, and for the briefest of moments, everything feels normal again, especially when Henry slides down the couch cushions and is basically a noodle for forty five seconds until Neal scoops him up from the couch, standing him on his feet and placing his hand on his shoulders.

“I’ll put him to bed.”

“Thanks,” she says with a forced smile. How can he be acting so normally when everything is not normal? How has he spent nearly this entire time like that with only a few slip ups? “Goodnight, kid. I love you.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

She watches as Henry and Neal make their way up the stairs, the two of them peas in a pod, and her heart sinks again at absolutely everything. Henry is a smart kid. He’s going to understand a lot of the fallout of everything that’s inevitably going to happen, but he’s also still eight years old. There are a lot of things he’s not going to understand right now, but he’s going to understand them one day. The repercussions are going to follow him forever.

Can they still get that group rate on family therapy sessions?

Her sadistic jokes have got to stop.

Emma adjusts Ada on her shoulder, wondering when in the world she got so heavy, and carefully stands to join Killian in the kitchen where he’s putting away the leftover slices of pizza in a Tupperware container, neatly sliding it into its spot in the refrigerator before his phone chimes.

“Who’s that?”

He doesn’t answer, but she watches as his brows pinch together and the lines on his forehead all focus in on one area as the skin at his jaw convulses, Killian very obviously frustrated and focused.

She runs her hand over Ada’s back and takes a step closer to Killian. “Babe, what is it?”

“David says that Graham and some of his coworkers are going to come to the house to arrest Neal so they can question him.”

“What?”

“They’re – they want to move ahead with the investigation, to stop losing money on manpower. Apparently after talking to you they realized they weren’t going to learn anything new without Neal, and they’re willing to offer him some kind of fucking deal.”

Her heart is never going to take up residence in her chest again. It’s permanently going to live in the pit of her stomach and never return to its normal beating within her chest. At least it’s still beating because her breath has been escaping her all night.

“Right now?”

“Aye.” Killian nods his head before he drops his phone onto the countertop, the clanking loud against the marble, and he steps forward to wrap his arms around she and Ada, pulling her as flush against his chest as he can with their daughter in between them. She doesn’t even realize that she’s shivering until Killian rubs his hand up her back. He’s always doing that, and she needs him to never stop. “Take Ada upstairs, darling,” he whispers in her ear so that the warmth of his lips press into her skin and his beard scratches her. “Put her to bed and make sure that Neal is finished getting Henry to go to sleep. Our kids are going to be in bed when this happens, and when they wake up in the morning, nothing is going to be different for them, okay?”

“How do we tell Henry about any of this?”

“We’ll figure that out later. He doesn’t need to know right now. We won’t tell him until we have to.”

She nods her head against Killian’s neck and presses her lips against his collarbone. His arms fall from around her, and she moves toward the staircase to take Ada upstairs, hoping that she doesn’t wake up when Emma places her in her crib. She stirs a bit, but mostly she’s able to put Ada down without any fuss. She’s always loved this nursery, loved the calming neutral colors and decorations, and even though Ada spent most of her time in her bassinet in their bedroom, Emma can’t begin to count the hours that she spent in here nursing or reading Ada to sleep. Her baby is so full of innocence, of light, and she wishes for all the world that she could give that same innocence to Henry.

“I love you, bug,” she whispers to Ada, leaning down and brushing her lips against her forehead before pushing her hair back.

Swallowing the emotion in her throat, she walks out of the nursery and sees Neal closing Henry’s door. It’s something she grew used to in his time living here, and if she closes her eyes, it’ll be just like it was then. Neal will have read Henry one of his books, told him he loved him, and there would be no underlying history of betrayal. It would simply be a father loving his son.

But it’s not that. How can it be?

“Is he asleep?” she questions, trying not to let anything slip past that shouldn’t while she messes with the pendant on her neck, needing something to do with her hands once more.

“Out like a light. He kept talking about his goal from yesterday.”

“It was a good one.”

“So I’ve gathered.”

“Do you have tomorrow off of work too? When are you going home?”

Neal smiles and takes a step closer to her. She instinctively wants to take a step back, but she doesn’t. She holds her ground. “Why? You trying to get rid of me already?”

“Never. I’m glad you’re here for Henry.”

(Always. You’re a bastard, she wants to say.)

“I felt bad cancelling on him. You have to believe me on that.”

“I do. Let’s – ” she hesitates, turning her head to look back down the hallway toward the stairs, “ – let’s go downstairs. I want you to tell me a little bit more about work.”

Neal quirks a brow and tilts his head to the side, and a shiver runs down her spine in recognition that he’s studying her, that he realizes that something is off. Neal may have lied to her, may have hidden truths of his life, but they were still together for four years. He knows her, and it terrifies her that she’s somehow given something away that she’s not supposed to.

“You want to talk about my work?”

“It’s important to you.”

“Huh. I just thought I’d be in for more of a lashing because of yesterday.”

If only.

“I have nothing more to say about that,” she grits as she turns on her heel and starts to walk away so that she can compose herself. She has a hell of a lot more to say, but really, she knows that it doesn’t matter. Not now. “Come on. I’ll get you something to drink.”

She doesn’t turn around, but she can feel Neal’s heavy presence behind her, a continual hovering that weighs her down over time. That’s how he’s always been, and she’s been too naïve to realize it. It’s how he works, apparently. He’s nice enough, saying and doing all of the right things only to gradually break her down and make her feel worthless. But then he’ll be sweet, do something kind for Henry, and she forgets all of the snide remarks he’s made toward her.

That’s not okay. It never has been.

“Babe,” she calls when she gets to the bottom of the stairs, “will you get Neal some whiskey?”

“Aye.”

Her eyes follow Killian as he reaches up to grab a small glass out of the upper section of the cabinet. His muscles strain under the sleeve of his t-shirt, and her eyes fall to the dark hair that covers his forearms and the veins that lie beneath them. His shirt rises to show his stomach and the strong lines there that dip into his sweatpants. Her limbs are still shaking, goosebumps covering her arms, but Killian is steady. He’s always steady.

Right now she feels so incredibly weak, but really, she knows that she’s rarely had to be this strong.

Slowly but surely Killian pours all three of them glasses of whiskey, the liquid sloshing into the glasses, and when she’s handed hers, it takes everything in her not to gulp it all down so she can feel the harsh burn of it falling down her throat. Her gaze watches her drink move, the slow steadiness of it, and she takes pleasure in the consistent back and forth movement. In the back of her mind, she knows that she, Killian, and Neal are having a conversation. She can hear her words in her own head, hear the forced sound of Killian’s laugh, and then hear the quiet murmuring of Neal’s voice.

Mostly, though, she hears the click on the door as it opens, the crunch of boots as Graham walks into their house with a woman she’s never met following behind him, and she hears Neal cursing and questioning what’s happening before suddenly legal rights are being read over the clink of handcuffs snapping together.

That’s when the muted sounds stop, when everything comes back to full volume, and she listens to the familiar sound of Neal’s voice, the one she only heard in her dreams for eight years, and the unfamiliar sound of Graham’s voice as he continues to explain what’s happening. The woman, Agent Fa apparently, thanks she and Killian for their assistance, tells them that they’ll be able to get more information tomorrow, and then she’s gone too, closing the front door behind her and letting it click into place.

She places her drink on the counter, the whiskey untouched despite her desperate desire to drink it, and it takes one and a half steps for her to fall into Killian and rest her head on his shoulder, burying her nose into his shirt so that she can smell the faintest whiff of the detergent they use. It’s that familiarity, that normalcy of the smell that grounds her as her arms tighten around his stomach and his come to rest on her back again. This time they don’t move, they don’t rub her back to reassure her. They simply stay still, a warm presence when she feels so incredibly cold.

“I love you. I’m so proud of you,” Killian mumbles into her neck, and she nods her head in response as she feels a tear slip from her eye quickly followed by another until she’s uncontrollably sobbing, every single part of today and yesterday and the past twelve years of her life coming back to her while Killian finally rubs her back up and down. “You are so brave, my love. Undoubtedly the strongest person I’ve ever come across in my life.”

She chokes on one of her sobs, air struggling to get to her lungs, and she knows that she’s got to be wiping snot on Killian’s shirt from how she can’t stop her body from falling apart.

She’s thirty one years old, and she’s lived five lifetimes worth of pain.

“Shhh, shhh,” he comforts, his hand now moving against her back, patting her every time she gasps for breath, “I have got you, Emma. I’ve got you.”

No part of her misses that he doesn’t say that she’s okay, that it’s okay, and she takes comfort in that too. There’s no point in lying.

“I love you,” she gasps in a quiet whisper that he most likely can’t hear over her. “I – don’t…I’m…can we – I really need to go to bed,” she finally gets out as she pulls back to look at Killian through her blurry vision. She blinks through the tears, trying to clear her vision, and Killian moves one hand up her arm until he’s wiping away her tears with his thumb so that she can see the tears falling down his cheeks as well.

“Let’s go to bed,” Killian agrees, and she can’t help herself from pressing up on her toes and kissing away the tear staining his cheek.

The next day is the most difficult day, she thinks, because she spends the entire day wondering what exactly comes next and wondering if she’s ever going to get the answers she craves. It almost feels similar to how she felt when she was told that Neal couldn’t be found, that he’d disappeared, that he was most likely dead. She knew for sure that he was dead, that he was gone, but the way that there were no definitives made the tiniest glimmer of hope radiate from within.

Now all that radiates is dread.

They take Henry out of school that day, she and Killian call in sick, and after they tell Henry that Neal had to go home early, his brown eyes full of disappointment, she and Killian take the kids to Willard beach, packing up a picnic and beach toys to entertain everybody since it’s still a bit too cold to get into the water despite it being early May. Henry is definitely a little down at first, the highs and lows of thinking his father is going to be around only for him to be gone the next day definitely taking a bit out of him, but when they get onto the sand and Killian starts kicking a ball back and forth with him, he seems to forget, especially when Killian purposefully kicks the ball far enough away that Henry is running with all of the speed that his legs will allow him. He runs back, red faced with his hair all a mess, but he’s smiling.

Her little boy is smiling, and that’s all that matters.

Ada keeps trying to stand only to fall down into the sand, the uneven surface not good for her as she tries to walk (oh man is Emma not ready for that for whenever it comes), and Emma spends her time helping Ada out as much as she can but mostly lifting her in the air and making her giggle as she listens to her daughter babble every little word and sound she knows.

It lifts her in ways she never thought possible.

For a few hours she forgets everything that’s going on in a police department downtown and forgets everything that’s happened in the past forty eight hours. These three people in front of her that are making her laugh as mustard gets stuck on Killian’s beard and Henry sticks his tongue out to make his little sister laugh are making her see that there is such good in the world that makes everything else seem a little less harsh.

At least for now.

Three days later the news breaks that Robert Gold has been arrested at his home in London, and it’s all a spiral from there. She and Killian have to explain to Henry what is going on, and she adds it to the list of the hardest things she’s ever done. He doesn’t understand, even when they break it down into the simplest of terms, and the first hour of the conversation is spent with him yelling at the two of them telling them how they’re liars and that his dad would never do anything, that his dad is a hero. It’s what they’ve told him his entire life, and it’s an awful dose of reality having to explain that heroes fall and that dads aren’t infallible superheroes even when it seems like it a lot of the time.

Her heart shatters once more, the pieces becoming a little more broken, and when Henry finally stops yelling, finally stops being angry at her, he falls into her arms and sobs as loudly as she’s ever heard him sob. His small frame shakes in her embrace, and no matter how tightly she holds him she can’t get it to stop.

She may be shaking too.

Emma promises that she loves him, promises that he is a good kid with a good heart, but all of her words seem to fall flat to a kid who’s finding out that his dad, the one he just got to know, is going to be in prison for the foreseeable future.

It’s twelve years.

That’s the deal he made with the FBI or Interpol or whoever the hell it is in charge of his case in exchange for giving details up about his father. David tells her that when he, Mary Margaret, Leo, and Ruth come over for dinner to try to distract Henry from everything that’s going on. Maybe to distract she and Killian too. David says things factually, Mary Margaret overly worries about if everyone is eating and drinking enough, and Ruth stays being the calm in the storm. It’s difficult dealing with all of these people worrying about her, especially when her natural tendency is still to close herself off and deal with it on her own, but they help. And weirdly, she holds herself together until Killian is video chatting with Liam to give him an update on what’s going on and she sees Caleb in the background lining up cars in a neat row.

She sobs once more, covering her mouth with her hands, as she looks at how at home that kid is. In all of this mess she hasn’t properly had time to talk to Liam and Belle, to let them know how happy she is for the two of them, and seeing them with their son breaks her down to her core.

“Birdie,” Liam coos, concern filling his voice while that same concern fills Killian’s eyes. “Lass, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, really unsure of why exactly she’s crying. She takes a step into Killian’s space and settles down on his lap while his arm comes to wrap around her waist, pulling her flush against his body as his chin rests on her shoulder, beard scratching her skin. “I’m just so happy for you guys, and I really want to hold onto my nephew. Hi, Caleb.”

Caleb looks up at her from his spot and smiles, giving her a frantic wave before he goes back to playing.

“You can’t take him away from his cars,” Liam explains, the smile on his face exactly the same as the one that Killian gets when he’s thinking about their kids. The similarity would be weird if it wasn’t so heartwarming. “He loves the things. And trains, though he doesn’t seem to like riding on them.”

“That’s pretty much how it works,” Killian laughs as he presses a warm kiss into her cheek, making her close her eyes as a slight smile forms on her lips. “Ada loves messing with her bows when they’re on the ground, but if I put one in her hair it’s like I’m the worst person in the world.”

“Where is she? I need to see her on her last day before she turns one.”

“She’s napping,” Killian sighs. “Am I not good enough to talk to you?”

“Never. Though Emma does help. She’s always elevated you.”

“Amen,” she and Killian laugh at the same time, and the comfort of it has her leaning back to rest her cheek against his while he taps his fingers against her upper thigh, squeezing the slightest bit. “We’re going to come see you guys when life is a little less crazy, okay?”

“Take your time, Birdie. We’ll always be here.”

They talk for a few more minutes before Liam has to go, and when the conversation is over, she takes a deep breath, the air around her lighter than it has been in twelve days.

“We need to bake Ada’s birthday cake.”

“Aye. We could always buy one. There’s a bakery ten minutes away.”

She places her hands over his on her stomach and pats down. “I made Henry’s first birthday cake. I want to make Ada’s even if I’m still not the best baker.”

“It’s a good thing you’ve got me then.”

“Hmm, probably the best thing.” She twists her head until she can slide her lips over Killian’s, their mouths lightly brushing over each other for a minute until she pulls back. “And I want to get all of the decorations up tonight because I’m not going to be here in the morning.”

“We can do that. Are you – do you still want to go? You don’t have to.”

“I need to.”

Killian nods against her forehead, every word he says making his lips brush over hers. “I know. I can come in with you.”

“No, no. I want to…Killian, I need to do this one thing alone.”

“Of course,” he says, kissing her one more time in a way that makes her stomach melt. “I’m going to go get Henry so he can help us with the cake.”

“That sounds good.”

It’s a bit of a mess baking the cake, especially when Killian and Henry keep swiping icing out of her bowl, but they do make progress on Ada’s lady bug cake. She’s turning one and won’t care what kind of cake she’s eating as long as there’s sugar involved, but this is her baby, her little lady bug, and dammit if Emma’s not going to make sure she has a good first birthday. Her boys end up being bigger helps than she expects, and Henry has a great time placing the black dots onto the rounded red cake. Just like everything else they’ve been doing, it takes her mind off of everything.

Seeing Henry be happy makes all of the difference to her when he’s been having a really difficult time. Dr. Hopper tells her that he’s handling everything as well as can be expected, and she has to take comfort in that. Dr. Lawrence says the same thing about her, and yet it’s still harder for her to accept that.

“You’re a regular star chef,” she tells Henry, wiping a bit of icing off of his face.

“I am pretty good, aren’t I?”

“Fantastic. I think your sister’s going to love this cake even more because you made it.”

“She’s a baby, Momma. She doesn’t care.”

“But she loves you,” Emma promises, pulling him into her side and pressing a smacking kiss into his forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Can I go outside now?”

“Of course, kid. Let me get some sunblock on you, though.”

“Mom,” he groans, resting his head against the countertop in despair. “I don’t need it.”

“Yes, you do, lad,” Killian adds in. “Unless you want to end up all shriveled and wrinkly like a raisin.”

“I like raisins.”

Killian rolls his eyes before winking at her. “You’re wearing sunscreen. Let’s go.”

The baby monitor goes off to show that there’s movement in the nursery, and she opens up the app on her phone to see Ada propping herself up on the crib grabbing at her mobile to reach for the little red crabs. She’s cried so much more than any human being should cry recently, and even though she knows she’s going to be emotional over her kid turning one, over the memories of that day nearly three hundred and sixty five days ago, it’s a good kind of emotional. She’s here and alive and healthy as can be.

She and Killian did a good job when it comes to that chubby-legged menace even if one day she’s going to turn on them and try to get out of having to wear sunscreen.

Among other things.

After spending the rest of her day with her family, keeping things as normal as possible, she has a restless sleep, constantly tossing and turning around on the mattress. At one point, Killian tugs her into his front and wraps his arm around her middle while sticking his legs between hers, and she knows it’s because she’s driving him crazy with her basically running a marathon while in bed. It helps to feel his solid warmth behind her, but when Killian falls back asleep, his grip on her relents and she keeps moving. In the morning, she knows that she’d eventually fallen asleep because of the way she jerks when the alarm goes off, and even though she needs more rest, she immediately gets up and takes a shower, readying herself as if she was getting ready for her daughter’s first birthday party this afternoon.

Once she’s dressed, eyeliner applied to her eyes and her natural waves curled a little more, she quietly pads down the hallway and into the nursery to see Ada. She’s still asleep, her lips curved into a serene smile, and all Emma can do is lean down and press her lips to Ada’s forehead once more before she walks down the hallway only to find Killian standing against their bedroom door with his hair sticking up in several different directions and his arms crossed over his chest, one brow raised on his forehead.

“Did you really think you were going to slip out without me knowing?”

“I was coming back to tell you I’m leaving.” He nods his head, and she steps into his space, placing her hands against his chest so that she can feel the beating of his heart as she looks up at his tired eyes. “I’m going to be back before two, and we’re going to go on with our day like nothing out of the ordinary happened.”

“You’re going to talk to Neal in prison. That’s not ordinary.”

“I need answers, Killian. He may not give them to me, but I have to ask. I deserve to know.”

“I can still come with you. Ruth can watch the kids.”

“I still think I want to do this on my own, but thank you.” She presses up on her toes and slowly slides her lips over his in a gentle caress. “I love you, and I’ll text you when I get there and when I leave, okay?”

“Alright. I love you too.”

She studies Killian’s face for a moment more, making sure that he’s okay, before patting his chest and stepping away so that she can go downstairs. For as weirdly calm as she is, she doesn’t want to risk anything by putting too much on her stomach or drinking enough caffeine to make her jittery, so she simply grabs a water bottle and her keys before leaving the house. It’s an hour and a half drive to New Hampshire, and despite her running into a bit of early morning traffic, she makes good time.

Whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing, she doesn’t know, but she’s in the prison’s parking lot thirty minutes before visitors are allowed in.

There’s something she never thought she’d think.

She texts Killian that she’s here, and leaves her phone in the car before going inside and going through security after filling out all of the paperwork. It’s insane, but being here makes her feel better than she did last night. Worrying makes the reality worse before reality even gets a chance to happen, but that’s never stopped her from tossing and turning at night.

Obviously.

When she’s told that she can go inside the room, she takes a deep breath to settle the still nervous set of her stomach and finds herself settling down onto one of the center tables while the other people fill in the spots around her. A ringer goes off, a harsh buzz surrounding her, and her head turns to the side as a sliding door opens and several men in gray jumpsuits walk out. She doesn’t recognize any of them, wouldn’t expect herself to, and for a moment she thinks that Neal isn’t going to come and talk to her until he rounds the corner and enters the room after a guard.

It’s…she doesn’t like seeing him like this. He was wrong, is a criminal who hurt a lot of people even if he wasn’t actively hurting them, and he hurt her in a way that’s permanently going to affect her, as well as Henry. She’s so undeniably pissed and broken, but there are still good memories of him buried not too deeply in her brain.

She’s a mess.

Unlike a lot of other people in the room, she doesn’t get up to hug him. Instead she stays sitting and nods while he cautiously slides onto the bench in front of her with his unshaved beard and unruly hair.

“Never thought I’d see you,” he greets, curving the right side of his lips into a smile that she doesn’t return.

“Surely you didn’t think that I was never going to come.”

“Didn’t think you cared about me anymore.”

“Whether I like it or not, Neal, a part of me will always care about you,” she admits, leaning forward and placing her joined hands on the table. “How are you doing?”

“It’s not the first time I’ve been in captivity, and honestly, this is a hell of a lot nicer than the first time.”

He’s trying to joke, probably to cut away some of the tension between them, but to her, all it does it make it grow.

“Why’d you do it?” she blurts out, figuring that she may as well get straight down to why she’s here. She’s got other things to do today, and if she’s not going to get her answers, she doesn’t want to wait.

He shrugs on the other side of the table, the wood dividing them in more ways than one. It’s still so surreal that this is happening. In all of her wildest dreams (nightmares), this was never one of them. There was never one even similar to this. This is…this is the absolute last place she ever expected to find Neal.

“I wasn’t always a bad guy, Ems.”

She flinches at that, but she also knows that it’s true. He wasn’t. He’s never been the best man in the world, but she loved him. She loved him before he died and she loved him in a way when he came back and got to be a part of their lives, even if it caused them all problems for a little while. But he was alive, he was here, and she was happy to have him home.

But that was then. She isn’t any longer.

“No, you weren’t,” she agrees, giving him a soft smile even if her heart feels hardened over it all, the smile more forced than anything. “But you abandoned me, Neal. You abandoned your son. A part of me doesn’t even care about all of the arms trafficking, which, holy shit is that fucked up on so many levels, but you left us. You told me over and over again that you loved me, and you _left_  us. Why?”

His shoulders sag, his back falling toward the open air instead of leaning forward. She honestly didn’t expect him to talk to her at all, but she needed to know answers. She can’t live without them again when she’s already spent so much of her life that way when it comes to her birth parents and the eight years that Neal was gone. She deserves more, always has, and one day when Henry is older and can understand all of this, he deserves more too.

“I really was captured,” he starts, drumming his fingers on the table so that she focuses on his fingers instead of his face. “That part is true, Ems, you have to believe me. I was captured and tortured and beaten, and even though I was a shitty husband to you at the end, I did think about you and Henry to get me through it all. But then my dad – he made a deal to get me out, and I had the opportunity to come home to you guys. I was going to, but I…After everything that happened, I just needed a fresh start. I could have everything, all the things I couldn’t have at home by staying and working with my dad. I could have freedom and money and – ”

“Women who didn’t have abandonment issues and a newborn baby.”

“Ems.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

His lips part before snapping shut again, a subtle nod of his head. It’s almost like he’s accepted what’s happening, that he’s not going to deny it, and of everything, that shocks her most of all.

Asshole.

“What do you want?” he finally says.

“The truth.”

“It’s not simple.”

“I just want to know, Neal. I get it. You’re selfish. You wanted a new life where Henry and I weren’t going to hold you back, and your apparently alive father helped you out with that because he freaking had contacts with actual terrorists. I don’t – you don’t need to break my heart again by telling me that you abandoned me and lied to me when you knew I had issues with that. But I do need to know why you came back. And damn it, if you have any decency at all, I need you to tell me about all of that so I can stop wondering.”

His jaw ticks, but he nods his head anyways and she feels such apprehension but mostly relief that she gets to know.

“My dad and I had a plan. We knew if I came back home and everyone thought I’d survived for nearly a decade under captivity, I’d be hailed as some kind of American hero. It’s why I did the interview, why I continuously sought out the attention. I wanted people to know my name because our goal was Congress.”

Congress, she thinks. Why would his goal be Congress? How would that…

“You bastard. That’s why took the job in the State Department. That’s why you were so insistent on moving back to DC even though we had a life in Portland. What was the plan? Schmooze politicians and try to change laws for some kind of way to make your dad’s business bigger?”

He shrugs again, and she knows that she’s right. “That’s the gist of it, but me working at the State Department was a bit of a roadblock. I – I didn’t know that you were with Killian. I checked to see if you had remarried, but since you guys aren’t married, there was no record. I didn’t think to check for kids. I didn’t…I figured you hadn’t moved on from me, so I came back. We were going to be reunited, and it was going to be this big thing where our family made us this kind of all American dream that helped propel me more toward a role in Congress so I could make contacts in the government and help ease our sales.”

“You don’t need to sugarcoat it. You haven’t with anything else. Bribes. That’s what easing sales means, right? And what, you thought that I was sitting around waiting for you for a decade? How self centered are you?”

“I missed you.”

“Bullshit.”

“I did.”

“You left me, Neal,” she yells, making everyone in the room look at her before she quiets her voice. “There is no changing that. You abandoned your family, and I mourned you every day of those eight years. But I also grew the hell up, realized how shitty you treated me, and I allowed myself to find happiness again. Happiness that you didn’t seem to care about and yet suddenly resented when you found out I had it with someone else. And now you’re telling me that you were going to use me? You were going to use us to paint this pretty portrait to further your business and to seriously fuck up an already fucked up system? That’s – that’s…you’re a dick. I can’t even believe any of that, and yet I can. After all of this I can. I mean, God, you don’t even care about me or Henry, and yet you pulled all of that shit about how you are Henry’s dad and Killian isn’t. You tried to poison that kid against the man who raised him out of some petty jealousy, and I…did you ever even love me?”

She doesn’t know how she got that question, not really, but deep down it’s been blazing its way to the surface, breaking its way through every other muddled thought that she’s been pushing down.

She’s not even sure if she wants to know the answer.

“I’ve always loved you even if I didn’t know how to show it. I’m a selfish man, Emma. I always have been. My father is too, and it’s the only thing I ever knew growing up. I guess I couldn’t help myself. But yeah, I fucked up. I fucked it all up, and none of it worked. I’m…I guess I’m sorry that I dragged you all into this, but you were never supposed to find out about my dad or that I hadn’t been in captivity the entire time. It was part of why I was distancing myself from you guys. Yes, it was to go along with the plan, but I also didn’t want Henry to get hurt. And I guess I let myself have feelings for you again, and I was pissed that I couldn’t have you and couldn’t have the relationship Henry has with Killian.”

“That’s your own damned fault.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“I don’t think you know anything about what it’s like to have a family.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

She laughs, one of those dark laughs that makes her own skin crawl, and while she’s trying to contain herself, she rubs the heels of her hands just below her eyes. When her chest has stopped heaving, the rage calming itself for a minute, she looks directly into the eyes of the man who she once loved more than anyone in the world.

“I know more about family than you ever have, and I may screw up a hell of a lot, but I would never abandon the people I love for some money and the ability to fuck around. I would never abandon them for anything.” Emma presses her lips together before standing from the bench and leaning forward on the table. “You know, all that time that you were gone I wished you were alive, but now, I wish you were dead.”

With that, she gets up and walks from the room. He doesn’t deserve more of her time, and she doesn’t need anything else from him.

Walking out of the gates of the prison and loading up into her car is exhilarating, and as she drives down the open highway with music blaring through the speakers, she feels free. She hadn’t realized that she felt trapped until now, but the shackles that have been holding her down are no longer binding. She knows that this is all something that’s going to stay with her for the rest of her life, but that doesn’t have to stop her from living.

When she gets home, she quickly parks in the garage and steps through the door into the kitchen. There’s a spread of finger foods on the island that makes it look like it’s a Saturday and Killian is having his friends over to watch a soccer match with Henry excitedly following him around wearing whatever jersey he’s decided on today, and she smiles a little as she picks up a carrot and dips it into the sauce that’s in a bowl. Killian took the day off of work today so she could go see Neal and so they could have everybody over this afternoon for Ada’s party.

“Babe,” she calls out, grabbing another carrot and walking to the living room where she finds Killian laid out on the couch with his arms crossed over his chest and Ada sleeping in just her diaper on top of him. “Kid,” she asks Henry as he sits quietly reading his book in the arm chair, “why in the world is your daddy asleep?”

“He said that hosting people is exhausting, and he needed to nap with Ada.”

She hums in acknowledgement and walks over to Henry, shimmying down to sit in the chair next to him and wrapping her arm around his shoulder. “What have you guys been doing all day?”

“Getting ready for Ada’s party. I wanted to see if I could catch real ladybugs outside, but Dad said I couldn’t put them into the food.”

“Gross.”

“No, cool.”

“We’re not eating bugs.”

“But what’s the point of having a ladybug party if there are no bugs?”

“Because it’s cute, and it’s our nickname for Ada. But for your birthday, if you want to have a bug themed party, we’ll have lots of bugs…just outside, okay?”

“I think I want to go out on a boat for my party.”

“We should definitely do that,” Killian pipes in, sitting up on the couch and sliding Ada down onto his lap.

“Oh look, Henry, you said the magic words to wake your dad up.”

“Ha ha,” Killian mocks, rolling his eyes before he rubs the sleep out of them. “When’d you get home, love?”

“About three minutes ago. I’ll tell you about everything later, but I think right now we have to go get my bug dressed for her party.”

“What? The diaper look doesn’t work for you?”

“Only when we’re eating the cake.”

Emma takes Ada from Killian and walks her upstairs to change her diaper and get her dressed in the romper Emma has for her. It’s a hassle, but she gets the headband on her too, brushing back her slight curls as she tells Ada the story of the day she was born. She does the same thing with Henry, even if she has to embellish the details, and she takes the time to appreciate that Ada can’t complain about Emma getting all sentimental as she talks about that painful, magical day. Ada will hate hearing about one day, but it’ll forever be one of the best days of Emma’s life.

Her mom, David, Mary Margaret, and Leo show up an hour later, Ruby, Robin, and Roland following behind them as well as a few of Henry’s friends from school that she told him he could invite. Everyone is aware of what’s been happening lately, most of them intimately so, but none of them mention it as they laugh and talk and have the carefree time that she’s wanted for today. Ada loves all of the attention, really hams it up for everybody, and she laughs at her continuously trying to steal everybody’s food even if Henry is the one actually swiping food.

But eventually it’s time for Ada to finally get to smash into her birthday cake – because what better idea is there than giving a child that much sugar – and she, Killian, and Henry crowd around Ada’s high chair so that Mary Margaret can take a picture of the four of them before Killian lights the candle and they all sing. For the briefest of moments, she looks over to Killian, and he winks in return before threading his fingers through hers.

When the song is over, everyone claps, Ada moving her hands along with them, and Emma leans down to blow out the candle for Ada, extinguishing the light on the completion of one year and signaling the beginning of a new one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this isn't like my usual stories, the plot a little bit darker, but I cannot tell you how much I appreciate all of you who have stuck through it. Seriously. You are all the best, and I cannot tell you how much I appreciate all of you and the support you've given the story and me. 
> 
> I've got the epilogue written, and I think it's a nice little addition to show that the dark times aren't always hovering over us!
> 
> Thank you💙


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have one last chapter with one last flashback! Truly, thank you for reading. I hope you have enjoyed the wild ride💕

Killian dives under the water, tightly shutting his eyes to keep the salt out, before jumping back up to the surface and leaping over to tug on Henry’s legs as he kicks out at him in an attempt to get away. They’ve been lounging around in the ocean for a solid two hours, their skin wrinkled at the fingertips and toes – not that his skin isn’t already a bit wrinkled – and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world as he chases after Henry and continually keeps him from getting too far away. It helps that Henry’s got a small paddle board sans the paddle strapped to his ankle so he can’t move as quickly as he normally would be able to if he were swimming. Then again, the lad is also nearing twelve this summer, and while he’s grown quite a bit recently, he’s still far shorter than Killian is.

 

He never had a chance.

 

“Dad,” Henry gasps when Killian grabs onto his ankle and pulls him back to his stomach as small waves tumble over toward them and fade out into whitewater, “that’s not fair.”

 

“I gave you a head start,” he protests, angling Henry’s board toward the shore since they’re already out further than they should be and need to head back. “Are you getting hungry? I’m absolutely starving.”

 

“I could be hungry if we’re having grilled cheese.”

 

“You are just like your mum.”

 

“They’re good.”

 

“Not when you use the artificial cheese.”

 

“That’s the best kind.”

 

“Whatever you say.”

 

“I’m right.”

 

“You are not.”

  
  
“Agree to disagree.”

 

Killian clicks his tongue as he starts guiding them closer in, wrapping his arm over Henry’s back and kicking his legs out as he swims. “You really are just like your mum if you’re saying phrases like that.”

 

“She works at my school. I can’t get away from her, and now you’re saying I sound like her. I can’t win.”

 

“Do not say that around her,” he gently warns as they get a little closer to shore so that he can see Emma building a sandcastle with Ada near their umbrella so that she still has her eyes on Nathan as he sleeps in his seat. Seven-month-olds aren’t exactly huge fans of the beach, but when it’s a summer day and no one has work or school, they’re not about to pass any of this up when they now live a few feet away from the ocean.

 

They moved to Boothbay a little less than two years ago after everything happened. He and Emma hadn’t wanted to live in Portland anymore, couldn’t live in their house, and as much as he hated to leave the place where so many of the great moments of his life happened, he knew that it was the right decision. They went through hell as a family, and even though picking up and moving to a new place is no way to solve issues, it was a start for them. They thought about leaving that summer, but he and Emma both decided that they would let Henry stay in his school for one more year so he didn’t have to deal with anymore upheaval in his life. He was going through a lot without the emotional capabilities to handle it, and they weren’t about to take him away from his friends and his family. But when they’d brought up the idea of moving, even if it is only two hours away, he’d been excited. Killian still thinks that Henry mostly wanted to move because they told him they’d be living in a house on the beach instead of one in a suburb, but honestly, the kid is happy now. That’s all that matters.

 

His family’s happiness is all that’s ever mattered to him, and even though there are days when he’s pissed at Emma, frustrated with Henry, and struggles dealing with Ada and Nathan, he treasures that happiness more than anything in the world.

 

No part of him takes any kind of happiness for granted.

 

Not his own, not his children’s, not his wife’s.

 

_Wife._

 

The word still almost feels foreign to him despite he and Emma having gotten married two and a half years ago during an absolute torrential downpour in August. For him to have had the ring for nearly an entire year before he got to use it, the engagement and wedding sure as hell did happen quickly.

  

* * *

* * *

 

“Babe,” Emma calls.

 

“Babe.”

 

“Killian.”

 

“Killian,” Emma huffs, pressing her hand into his shoulder and pushing him a little on the bed until he opens his eyes, wondering why the hell Emma is jostling him awake when he’s getting to sleep in for once in his life.

 

“If you’re waking me up for morning sex, I’m going to need a minute or two.”

 

“Oh my gosh,” she groans, sitting down on the mattress next to him and moving down until her cheek is right next to his, her ass moving the mattress enough to jostle him a little bit more awake so that he twists his head to fully look at her while his hand lazily finds her thigh underneath the cover, squeezing the warm, bare skin a bit before resting it there, “no. I’m not waking you up for sex.”

 

“Pity.”

 

“Maybe later if you don’t bother me too much today.”

 

“Is that a promise?” he smirks, knowing that Emma most likely thinks he looks a little more ragged than handsome this morning.

 

“It’s a maybe,” she laughs, dipping her head down until he feels her lips against his forehead.

 

It’s still early, far too early, and if he knows anything about his surroundings today, it’s that the sun hasn’t made its way into the sky, the air outside still shrouded in darkness. And for Emma to be up this early on a Saturday without having been woken up by Henry or Ada, it’s basically a once in a lifetime day.

 

But she’s happy. He notices that too. Her face is bare of all makeup, freckles smattering across her nose, and he can see the blonde tips of her lashes that are often hidden by mascara. And her hair is a mess, the curls around her face a little more prominent, and her teeth look especially white against the tanned skin this summer has brought her.

 

They’ve been in a dark place since May, and even though Emma has made an effort to have things go on as normal, they haven’t.

 

Getting over what Neal did to them is such a slow process, one that he’s sure will manifest itself as different challenges and issues for the rest of their lives, and though it’s been easier for about a month and a half now, he still often can’t fall asleep at night because his mind runs through everything. Mostly he thinks about Emma and Henry, how they’re dealing with it, and that’s exactly what keeps him up.

 

They’re…he and Emma are good, though. He thinks that they may be better than they’ve ever been. It’s certainly not like it once was when they were dating and thinking about the prospect of having Ada. It’s different, but he thinks that it’s better. There’s more trust between them, more faith too, and after a year of sometimes feeling like they weren’t even playing the same game, he thinks that they’re solidly on the same team.

 

Co-captains.

 

He loves her, and he can’t ever imagine anything changing that. And if something tries, he won’t let it.

 

She’s happy.

 

He’s happy.

 

They’re happy in spite of everything, but this morning it’s almost as if there’s a different light around Emma than the one that usually stays with her.

 

“So tell me, my love,” he sighs, inching his hand a little higher on her thigh to tease her skin while he tilts his head up to look at her, “if not because I am simply so irresistible, why are you waking me up this morning?”

 

“Ada took her first real steps this morning.”

 

“What?”

 

“Ada. She took her first steps.”

 

“When?” he chuckles, moving up on the bed so that he can look at Emma a little more clearly, his chin resting in the dip between her breasts. “How long have you been awake?”

 

“At, like, two this morning. Her monitor went off, and I couldn’t get her to stop crying. I guess she was just really hungry since she didn’t really eat dinner last night, so I fed her and then we played for a few minutes, and she took her steps.”

 

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, throwing the blanket off of him and rising from the bed, tugging up at his pajama pants and adjusting his t-shirt as his heart beats wildly in his chest, excitement heating his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

 

“Babe,” Emma laughs, sitting up on the bed and moving the remaining blankets off of herself so he can see the skin of her legs, not that he’s really paying that much attention to them anyways. That’s a once in a lifetime thing. “Killian,” she giggles, probably at the fact that he got out of bed so quickly and is now standing in place with his hands in his hair while Emma sits further up on her knees, “what in the world are you doing?”

 

“She took her first steps?” he questions, the disbelief still running through him. Ada’s been nearly there for months now, seemingly always staying the cruising stage, and she took her first steps. God, he can’t…his little love continuously reaching new little milestones that are always so miraculous as he watches her develop.

 

He can’t believe he missed these too.

 

Emma smiles, and even though he already knew the answer, that’s all of the reassurance that he needed.

 

He’s obviously not thinking straight, his mind all over the place, but he’s so damn happy that all he can think to do is bend down and wrap his arms around Emma, pulling her up and off the bed so that he legs dangle in the air while she squeals, wrapping her arms around his neck while he gets a better grip holding her under her ass. It’s definitely not the most coordinated thing in the world, but he doesn’t care as Emma’s legs wrap around his waist with her ankles crossing at her back while he slams his lips into hers, capturing her laugh and any other words she had to say as he slowly sways them back and forth in their room, not daring to move with his eyes closed.

 

He can feel Emma’s smile through the kiss.

 

“I’m going to tell Ada to walk more often if I get that reaction out of you.”

 

“A bloody brilliant plan that.”

 

Emma laughs again, and he nips at her upper lip before pulling back and peppering kisses across her face while pleasurable shivers run down his spine with how she’s playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. She hums then, and when he pulls back, he takes the opportunity to start walking them out of the room.

 

“Wait. Where are you going?”

 

“My daughter took her first steps, love. I want to see her do it again.”

 

“She’s asleep.”

 

He pinches her ass before carefully opening the door. “I know.”

 

“Killian, I swear, do not wake her up. She’s going to be cranky if you wake her up, and I don’t want to deal with that.”

 

“I’ll deal with it.”

 

“You’re being ridiculous.”

 

“Says the woman who woke me up to tell me this.”

 

“It’s big news, but I just got her back down.”

 

“Aye.” He nods, the reality of what she’s saying sinking in as he thinks of what their day will be like if they get Ada to be all riled up when she needs sleep. “You’re right. I’m just…I got a little overexcited there.”

 

“Well, you do tend to have the opposite thing happen to you when you’re woken up.”

 

He chuckles and turns them around in the hallway, his arms aching the slightest bit from having held Emma for so long. She’s a slight little thing, but even Ada gets too heavy to carry after he’s held her for too long. When he makes it back to the bedroom, he flips the switch to turn the light on their ceiling fan on, casting the room in a bright white light, before gently placing Emma down onto the bed, letting her fall back on her elbows with her hair falling down her back while she smiles up at him.

 

Somehow, he can feel the smile in his own cheeks.

 

And it all hits him suddenly. His daughter, the one who was once no more than seven pounds and could do little more than cry, is walking on her own, even if it’s only a step or two. His son is turning nine next month. He’s been with Emma for five years, and he turned thirty eight at the end of May.

 

Life is moving on.

 

For a long while, it stood still, the insanity swirling around them and causing a thick haze that no one could see through, but they made their way through it eventually even if some of the haze still surrounds them. But they keep walking, keep moving forward, and suddenly he doesn’t want to wait another moment to find the perfect moment when there has never been a more perfect moment than right now.

 

“Darling, wait right there.”

 

He doesn’t let her respond before he’s quickly moving the few steps to the closet and turning to grab the box out of his uniform pocket, the blue velvet smooth under his fingertips as a smile forms on his face, all of the nerves he thought he would feel nowhere to be seen as he pops the box open and removed the ring, holding it in the palm of his hand. He’s got no clue what he’s going to say, how he’s going to ask, so when he gets back into the bedroom to see Emma still in the same place with her brows raised high on her forehead, he simply steps in front of her and gets down on one knee on the hardwood floor.

 

If Emma’s brows could get any higher, they would, both of them practically in her hairline, but as quickly as they rise, they also lower to their normal spot all the while the corners of her lips curve into a smile that makes the green of her eyes nearly disappear.

 

But just nearly.

 

“Yes,” she blurts out, the word loud and yet somehow a quiet whisper in the room.

 

He chuckles, wanting to close his eyes with his laughter but not wanting to look away. “Emma, you have to let a man ask.”

 

“Sorry, sorry. I’m – ”

 

“I know, love. I know.” She’s getting ahead of herself, just like he did this morning, and that seems to be a habit of theirs. He doesn’t mind. “Emma, my love, the first time I saw you in that damned bar and made you laugh, I had absolutely no idea that we were going to go through so much together, that we were going to have this life and our kids and each other, that you were going to give me the greatest parts of my life, that _you_   would be the greatest part of my life. I love you more than anything, and while I can’t guarantee anything else, I can guarantee that I will always, always be by your side. So what do you say? Will you marry me?”

 

“Of course, yes. Killian,” she sighs leaning forward and grabbing his face until her lips are on his, an insistent press that is somehow the lightest touch he has ever felt. He’s kissed Emma more times than he can count, had her lips softly gliding over his every day for years now, but right now he can barely contain himself over how much everything is different and yet very much the same. “I will marry you, and I will be right there by your side annoying you every step of the way.”

 

A laugh escapes him, and he presses forward to brush his lips over the corner of hers, unable to keep himself from covering every inch of her warm skin with his lips as all of the turmoil and heartache disappears and he can only feel joy that rivals the day Ada was born or the day that Henry called him his dad for the first time.

 

Or maybe every other moment that he’s had with Emma.

 

“I love you,” she whispers, pressing her forehead into his while her hands reach up to clutch his face.

 

“I love you,” he echoes, wishing he had the words to express his love more than those three words do. He reaches up to grab her left hand from his face, pulling it down to rest between them as he quickly slides the ring onto her finger, marveling at the fact that it’s finally in the place that it should be. “You and the kids are the best things that have ever happened to me.”

 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us.”

 

“I mean, I already knew that.”

 

“Stop,” Emma laughs, falling back against the bed while he gets up from the ground to place his hands on either side of her head, dipping his head down to kiss her neck, spending a bit of time there while Emma’s laughs turn into gasps. He rather likes that. “Oh, I think I changed my mind about the morning sex.”

 

“Proposing did it for you then?”

 

“I mean, I was already considering it, but I do think that encouraged me the smallest bit.”

 

“Well, I will take what I can get.”

 

“You’ve always been a man of standards.”

 

He winks. “I try.”

 

Later, when they’re sated and their hair is a little messier than before, his skin still tingling from the way Emma felt wrapped around him, he finds the strength to rise from the bed when he hears Henry walk past their bedroom, obviously having woken up and probably wanting breakfast.

 

“I can go feed Henry,” Emma mumbles, rising from the bed and pulling on a t-shirt to cover her breasts while she quickly combs her hair back into a bun, which really doesn’t do anything to hide the fact that they were just intimate, but it’s not as if Henry will know, especially not with a new ring on her finger he’s sure she’ll be talking about. “If memory serves, there’s a little girl who you were very excited to see much earlier this morning.”

 

“I can make breakfast, love.”

 

“No,” Emma insists, pressing up on her toes to brush her lips over his cheek once, twice, three times, “I will. I think today deserves celebrating with something good and unhealthy that you would never let us have.”

 

“I think I could make an exception today.”

 

“Still. I can do it.”

 

He nods in agreements, and when she turns around to walk away, he quickly reaches down to grab her ass, making her giggle as she turns around to briefly look at him before walking out of the room with the slightest shake of her head.

 

That woman is going to be his wife.

 

He’s the luckiest man.

 

After getting dressed back in his pajamas, he quietly makes his way down the hallways and into the nursery, finding Ada standing against the railing with her brown hair standing up in so many different ways that he knows she got it from him and the weird cowlicks that he has.

 

“Dada,” she squeals, her face lighting up in a way that will never fail to amaze him that someone so little loves him so much.

 

“Good morning, sweetheart. You been keeping your mummy up at weird times?”

 

“No,” she giggles, her favorite word as of late. He picks her up out of the crib and kisses her cheeks, making her giggle more. “No, no, no.”

 

“Oh come on, I think you did. And you walked too? It’s been a very big morning in this house.”

 

“No.”

 

“But it is,” he insists, standing her up on the changing table. “Your mummy told me she wants to marry me, my love bug.”

  

* * *

* * *

 

They’d gotten engaged after far too long of a time, and Emma told him that she didn’t want to wait anymore, that there was no point in delaying something that they both wanted to do. So with the help of Mary Margaret, planner extraordinaire, they planned a small wedding to happen in the backyard of Ruth’s house before Henry went back to school and Emma went back to work. Except it rained so much that everything happened in the living room, decorations haphazardly placed in the spots where the furniture had been carried to other rooms. It was a mess, but it was as close to perfect as he ever could have imagined. Liam, Belle, and Caleb decided to fly in from England, Belle absolutely insistent that she would not miss the wedding, and he finally got to meet his nephew who is now his favorite little man to get to video chat at least twice a week. David applied for a license online to marry them, and even though Emma laughed for a solid ten minutes at the image of David marrying them, she did come around to the idea.

 

He asked Henry to be his best man, told him it was one of the most important jobs for him to have after being a good big brother, and they let Ada be their flower girl even if it was an absolute disaster since she nearly fell every other step. He’d had to walk toward her and lean down in front of her at the end of their makeshift aisle and clap to her to continue her walking. She’d just taken those infamous first steps four weeks prior, and it was definitely still a work in progress. Emma had been standing at the back of the room in her dress, a small lacy thing that hugged her chest and flowed from her hips, and she hadn’t been able to help herself from quickly walking toward him and helping to encourage Ada to walk until she got to the end of the aisle with a small basket full of the flower petals they completely expected her to drop the moment she was handed it.

 

The entire thing was imperfect, crazy, and yet it was the most intimate moment of his life as he got to officially commit himself to Emma for the rest of his days.

 

He loves her with every beat of his heart, and while it’s never been easy, even in the days of flirting and teasing, they have fought for the love that they share because they both know it’s been worth it. He’ll never be one to claim that falling in love and getting married solves problems and brings utter happiness because that’s simply not true. Fights and petty arguments happen, disagreements over how to raise children occur, and heated discussions over what to have for dinner happen frequently. But that’s what happens when you share your life with someone else.

 

The disagreements, though, are always smaller than the love and happiness, and he’s thankful that he’s got this woman by his side who is his partner in all things.

 

And they’ve got three kids who they love more than anything.

 

Killian officially adopted Henry after they got married, and even though it required legally working with Neal, it was still one of the best decisions he’s ever made. The fact that Henry asked for it makes it all the sweeter. The kid has always been his son, and adoption or not, that was never going to change. Nathan arrived back in October two weeks before Emma’s birthday, and while they had planned him, it was still somehow a shock to have another little one in his arms.

 

(Changing the little lad’s diaper was a bit of a shock too since he was used to Ada and wasn’t around for changing a lot of Henry’s diapers.)

 

But a good shock.

 

And his little love Ada isn’t quite as little anymore, even if she’s a bit on the small side and takes after her mother in nearly every way but her hair and the indent of her chin, as she’s now four and more full of life than he ever thought possible. She talks, just all of the time, and he’s not sure if he can quite keep up with her. When he can’t, she makes sure to tell him, placing her hands on her hips and staring at him with furrowed brows until he catches up with whatever creation she’s making or story she’s telling.

 

He’s got good kids.

 

And a beautiful wife who works as a high school vice principal now while he spends his days managing the harbor for the town since they have such traffic for their boat tours and shipping. It doesn’t pay as much as his last job, but the cost of living here is cheaper. Mostly, though, he’s happy in his job, and it doesn’t make him constantly feel like he’s at war both physically and with himself.

 

Happy.

 

That’s the word he keeps coming back to.

 

For so long, their word was normalcy. All they wanted was for everything to go back to normal. After everything, they’re happy. They still have their difficult days, all of them still in therapy and still struggling some days, but they’re happy.

 

“Daddy,” Ada yells from the shore, getting up and nearly kicking over the tower on her sandcastle much to Emma’s dismay, “I want to go surfing too.”

 

“I’m afraid I don’t know how to surf, love bug,” he sighs, unstrapping Henry’s ankle wrap so that he can stand up on his own. “We only have this paddleboard.”

 

“Mommy said it was a surfboard.”

 

Emma shrugs her shoulders and raises her hands in the air while her lips press into her skin and her brows raise. “That’s my bad. I forgot the name for it. I was stuck somewhere between boogie board and surf board, so I feel like I was close enough.”

 

“Not really,” Henry adds in.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m never right. I get it.”

 

“Daddy,” Ada whines again as she runs up to him and wraps her arms around his calf, weighing him down so that he has to kick up to walk, “please. I want to.”

 

He glances over to Emma to see what she has to say since they really need to get back up to the house, and when she nods her head, he reaches down and picks Ada up to rest on his hip as he grabs Henry’s paddleboard, which they have been decidedly not using the paddle for. Henry just got the thing last week, and they’re still working on coordination.

 

“Five minutes,” he tells Ada, pulling at her braided pigtails while wading out until he’s waist deep in the water.

 

“That’s not very long.”

 

“Well, we’ve got to get inside to get food in your tummy.”

 

“I like food.”

 

“You and me both.”

 

He steadies the board on the nearly still water before sitting Ada down on it. He already knows that she’s going to topple over into the ocean, but her lips are pursed in that way that she gets from Emma that means she’s determined to do something.

 

“Alright, love,” he tells her as he stands her up, one hand wrapped around her stomach while the other stays steady on the board, “you have to stay still and suck in your tummy like you do on the balance beam at gymnastics, yeah?”

 

“I know.”

 

“Oh, well if you know then.”

 

“I do. You have a lot of hair on your tummy, Daddy.”

 

“Your mummy likes that hair.”

  
  
“That’s weird.”

 

“No, it’s not. I like the hair on you head.”

 

Ada sighs while he gently moves her around as he keeps her wobbly legs from falling as much as he can. She’s such a little spitfire, and that’s not at all what he was expecting for how calm of a baby she was.

 

It’s payback for something. It has to be.

 

“But it’s on my head and not on my tummy. Mommy doesn’t have hair on her tummy. You’re like a bear.”

 

He laughs underneath his breath before he lets go of the board to run his fingers over Ada’s stomach, making her giggle and lose her footing until she falls onto the board, the air escaping her for a moment as she lands on her bottom. He stands her up once more, but she never quite gets over her giggling fit, so he makes the executive decision that their time is up and they can go inside. Grabbing Ada, her props her up on his shoulders and grabs the board so they can walk back up onto the sand where Emma and Henry are already packing up their things.

 

“Nathanial, my man, why are you not helping out?”

  
  
“Babe,” Emma groans, throwing her head back as she puts some of Nathan’s toys in his bag, “his name is not Nathanial. It’s Nathan, and we call him Nate. I don’t know why you insist on calling him Nathanial like he’s a little old man from two centuries ago.”

 

 He plops Ada down on the ground with the paddleboard. “Because it bothers you, my darling wife,” he sighs, dipping his head enough so that he can slide his lips over hers, the taste of salt water and a little bit of sunscreen consuming him. “And I believe I promised to bother you every single day in my vows.”

 

“That is not at all what happened.”

 

“It’s not,” Henry adds in, walking up to her with his float wrapped around his waist and his hair lying flat on his head. “You guys said the normal vows or whatever because I remember you talked about it _forever_.”

 

“Hey now, lad, you were very excited for your mum and I get to married. You can’t act like you weren’t.”

 

“Yeah, but I was nine, and I didn’t realize how gross you two were then.”

 

Emma looks at him, and he shrugs, his brows waggling across his forehead. Such a pre-teen. “Ada bug, why don’t you go give your big brother a kiss?”

 

“Please no,” Henry whines, already closing his eyes while Ada nods her head and practically pounces on Henry, scrambling up into his arms until she’s placing a smattering of wet, sloppy kisses all over Henry’s face. He always acts like he hates it, but he doesn’t. Even when he’s moody because his siblings are so much younger than him and he has to watch children’s shows, he would do absolutely anything for his younger siblings.

 

He’s a good kid. The best kid who he absolutely loves with his entire heart.

 

“Henry,” Ada giggles, “stop tickling me.”

 

“Stop kissing me.”

 

“Fine,” Ada huffs until Killian is grabbing her out of Henry’s arms and resting her on his hip as both Emma and Nate laugh behind them. “Daddy, can we go get food now?”

 

“Absolutely, my love. You have to go pack up your things, though, okay? Pick up all of the toys.”

 

It takes far longer to clean up all of their things than it should, but that always seems to happen whenever they let the kids help with things like that. It’s so much easier to do things themselves, but Henry and Ada have to know to clean up their own things. And they’re not on a timeline today anyways, so it’s fine as they take their time getting everything together and walking back up to the house. As always, getting Ada showered in their outdoor shower is a struggle with her squirming away from the cold water, but he’s got to get the sand off of her before she tracks it through the house.

 

That happened once, and he swears the rug in the living room has never quite been the same.

 

“Mom, can we have grilled cheese for lunch?” Henry asks after they’ve all showered and changed into dry clothes. Emma’s simply in her pajamas, one of his t-shirts and a pair of loose shorts, and he can see her hair already curling as it dries down her back. It’s gotten curlier since they moved here, and he quite likes the way it snaps back into place after he runs his fingers through it. “I really want grilled cheese.”

 

“Sure. Your dad will make it because I have to feed Nate.”

 

“No,” Henry and Ada yell at once, and he can’t help the little sting of insult that rushes through him. “He makes it with the weird cheeses,” Henry finishes, repeating their conversation from earlier.

 

“I will only make it with the cheese you guys like,” he promises with a roll of his eyes as he picks Nate up from his playmat and hands him over to Emma, “but you guys also have to eat some kind of vegetable.”

 

“I like carrots.”

 

“Okay, we’ll just go with the orange foods today then.”

 

He turns some music on his phone, one of his playlists that he knows doesn’t have cursing in it, and plays it over a little speaker they keep in the kitchen while both Ada and Henry sit at the island scrolling through an iPad as they play whatever game they’ve agreed on lately. Emma is sitting with Nate in the living room, and when he turns around, he can easily see her. That’s one of his favorite things about this house, the openness of it all. Their entire downstairs is basically one large room with a bathroom hidden in the back, and it makes everything seem much larger despite this house being smaller than their last one. Most of their old furniture remains, the same gray couch and loveseat with the brightly colored armchair all sitting in the living room with a white and gray striped rug (the one Ada stained) underneath it. The television rests above a white brick fireplace, and it’s all backed up to a few floor-to-ceiling windows that give a view of the ocean. There are curtains that they close at night or when they want privacy, but rarely does he want to not have the view of the water.

 

A part of him would like to say the house is clean, but Nathan’s toys are scattered everywhere no matter how often they’re put away in their bins, Ada’s joining them, and even though Henry mostly keeps his things in his room, occasionally some of his belongings will make their way downstairs. It’s definitely a home that’s lived in, and he can get over his far too rigid ways for that.

 

There are too many awful, difficult things in the world for him to be constantly worrying about everything being clean all the time even if cleanliness is something he’s trying to instill in his children.

 

It’s a balancing act.

 

He finishes cooking for everyone, cutting up the sandwiches in everyone’s preferred ways and piling the plates with vegetables before sliding over the plates and cups of water to Ada and Henry, hoping that Ada won’t manage to spill her water. After they’re fed, he takes Emma’s plate over to her and places it on the end table so that she can eat too. He’ll fix himself something later once the smell of processed cheese is out of the air.

 

Nathan starts whining, the beginnings of a cry that he recognizes and usually dreads.

 

“Oh no, kid,” Emma sighs when he unlatches and his wails get a little louder. She gets up from the chair, pulling her t-shirt down in the process, and starts walking him around. “Don’t cry. We’re happy, aren’t we? We just ate, Nate. Ooh that rhymes, see? You should like rhyming. You probably don’t get it, but that fine.”

 

His wails calm down to quiet sniffles as Emma sways him back and forth to the sound of the music, dancing with their son until he quiets down. He’s a good baby, a little fussier than Ada was, but he’s generally pretty happy. It helps that this is their first child where nothing crazy has happened in the months after their birth, so they’re calmer, their stress levels much lower. They’ve got a pretty relaxed life, and that’s exactly what he wants.

 

“You used to be louder than that,” he overhears Henry tell Ada from behind him.

 

“I was not,” she protests.

 

Killian laughs to himself before rising from the couch and moving to stand in front of Emma, motioning for her to hand him Nate. She does, passing him off with a smile before she settles down in the armchair, curling her legs up underneath her as she takes a bite out of her sandwich.

 

“Now, Nate,” he says, swaying his hips from side to side and poking his son’s nose, “there is a secret to dancing. Sometimes you can be silly and move your arms and your bottom however you want, but then other times there’s a specific flow of how to dance. Your mum is a natural at dancing, but I believe that’s because she picked a partner who knew what he was doing.”

 

“You’re full of yourself.”

 

“No, no, I am not.” Nate babbles at him before reaching up to grab at his face, his little smile so happy when he was red faced moments ago. “You see, I used to have to go to military balls, my boy, and one time I had the pleasure of dancing with your mother. She nearly stepped on my toes, but I made sure that she didn’t. It was all very romantic.”

 

“We weren’t even dating at the time.”

 

He winks at Emma. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t think it was romantic.”

 

He keeps moving around with Nate while Emma eats, trying to keep him occupied. He’s attached to Emma, is always wanting to be with her, so it’s always a bit of a bonus for Nathan to be so happy when Killian’s playing with him and Emma’s just a few feet away. Ada joins in, deciding she wants to dance too, and while Henry doesn’t really have any interest, he settles down on the couch until Emma pulls him up and forces him to join her. He’s reluctant about it, but he does it.

 

Eventually they all get tired out, so Emma closes the curtains and turns on a movie, letting Nathan sleep on her chest and Ada nap at her side while he and Henry debate if Spiderman or Batman would be better at saving the town if they were to ever come under any danger. Henry has had to grow up quickly because of the circumstances of his life, but it’s comforting for him to get to have these little conversations about something as inconsequential as superheroes.

 

(Spiderman would definitely be better.)

 

The rest of their day is spent lazily, only getting up to eat or use the restroom, and by the time night falls, they’ve got Ada and Nathan sleeping and Henry settled in his room reading one of his books with the promise to turn off the lights before ten. He knows it won’t happen, but he can hope.

 

Walking through their bedroom, he makes his way to the bathroom where Emma is standing in front of the mirror spraying something in her hair before she attempts to brush out the tangled curls. He knows it’s not fun because he did the same for Ada after taking her braids out, and it was a mess. When she curses under her breath at a knot, he steps forward until he’s swaying into her space and pressing their bodies together while his hands press up under her shirt to splay over her stomach, her skin warm from the sun she got this morning.

 

“Hi,” he whispers before dragging his lips across her neck, tasting the salt that still remains on her skin as she leans back into him. There will never be a more beautiful, loving woman, and he’s grateful that she’s his every day.

 

“Hi.”

 

“The kids are asleep.”

 

“That tends to happen at night.”

 

He hums in agreement before pressing another kiss to her neck as his hands wander up her stomach to her breasts, running his fingers over her nipples while Emma arches her back into him. “You know what else tends to happen at night?”

 

“Late night talk shows.”

 

“Tease,” he laughs, stopping his ministrations and resting his chin on her shoulder so that he can look at the two of them in the mirror. His eyes are immediately drawn to the little bit of gray peppering in his hair, just at the temple, and as much as Emma tells him that he’s beginning to be her silver fox, he’s not overly fond of this proof of aging, especially when his wife and his children are still so young and vibrant. “Today was a good day.”

 

“It was,” Emma agrees, reaching her hand up to scratch at the back of his head that sends shivers down his spine. “I wish you had off of work more often during the summers so we could have days like this.”

 

“It’s my busy season.”

 

“I know, I know. I like eating too much for us not to have jobs.”

 

“And the roof over our head.”

 

“Yeah, that too,” she chuckles before she manages to grab the corner of his lips with hers. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll come to bed, okay?”

 

“I like that plan.”

 

He lets Emma brush through her hair and wash her face while he brushes his teeth and washes his own face, slipping out of his sweats so that he’s only wearing his boxers before leaving the bathroom and moving to settle down under the plush white comforter in their bedroom. It’s still early enough for them not to be in bed, and he knows that he has laundry to do, but he’ll let that slide until tomorrow. It takes him a few minutes to find something on television to watch, settling on reruns of Seinfeld, and Emma joins him, laying her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around his stomach while he plays with her untangled hair as they sit in silence for a few minutes, the lights on the screen flickering in the dim lights of the room.

 

“We need to get Henry packed for his camp tomorrow. And Ada has a gymnastics class at the same time that I need to be dropping Henry off.”

 

“I can take Ada. I don’t have to be at work until ten on Monday.”

 

“That works for me, but don’t forget her - ”

 

“Scrunchie. Aye, I know, love,” he promises, dipping his head down to kiss the top of Emma’s hair. “I know how she absolutely has to have her hair done. She’s a particular lass.”

 

“I wonder where she gets that from.”

 

“Obviously not me.”

 

Emma pats his stomach and turns her head to kiss his chest. “Sure, babe. You’re never particular about anything.”

 

“Never.”

 

His hand travels down her back to run over her ass, lightly teasing the firm skin before he drags his fingers back up, scratching at her skin. He doesn’t have any devious intent, simply moving his hand up and down Emma’s body because it’s relaxing to her in the times when he’s not riling her up. And if it happens to bring a little energy back to them as they’re half asleep.

 

“You know, Mrs. Jones, I’ve been thinking.”

 

“That’s never a good thing.”

 

“It is at least one out of every ten times.”

 

“That’s debatable.”

 

“Anyways,” he laughs, cupping her chin and tilting her head up so that his thumb rubs over the indent in her chin and he can look into her eyes, “I was thinking that it’s such a shame that I never did get to take you as my date to one of the military balls we attended. We could have gotten dressed up, danced all night until you had me carrying your shoes because your feet hurt. You deserve nights like that.”

 

“Killian, we got married in my mom’s living room when we could have had a big party wearing nice clothes where we danced all night and got drunk off our asses. I don’t...it would have been great to get to go to those balls together, to have the fancy nights out, but I don’t need any of that. It’s so much better for you and me to do stupid dances in the living room with our kids. I couldn’t ask for more because I love you, and I’m happy.”

 

He dips his head to slide his lips over hers, quick and warm and insistent, but he likes it most of all because he can feel her smile mixed in with his.

 

“My love, your happiness is all I desire.”

 

“Same.”

 

“That’s not quite as eloquent.”

 

“Yeah, well, eloquence was never in the deal when you signed up for this package.”

 

He smiles at her, pressing forward to kiss her one more time as their noses brush together. “I’m more than good with that.”

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on Tumblr at [let-it-raines](https://let-it-raines.tumblr.com). Feel free to stop by and send me a message!


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